The Light and the Dark
by Cherry11tree
Summary: Hermione begins her first day of Auror training only to discover her fellow trainee is Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy is searching for himself by doing that which is least expected of him: becoming an Auror. As secrets unfold and trust develops, will the two enemies turn their hatred into passion?
1. Meeting

The Light and The Dark

Chapter 1: Meeting

A/N: This is my first fanfiction. Follow us on an adventure. Hopefully you'll like it enough to keep reading. It'll get more enthralling, this chapter is a little exposition-y. Rated M because of language and future sexual content.

The horizontal lines indicate a change in the narrator's focus: from Draco to Hermione. The idea being that when the narrator is following one of the characters, it expresses the emotion and knowledge of that character. I think it will become more important as the story progresses, especially as feelings develop.

Thanks for reading!

I don't own anything, all is JKR's.

He stood on the busy street corner watching people rush to work. Taking a drag of his cigarette, he looked up at the sky, exhaling slowly, trying to avoid other's wandering eyes. He was not entirely displeased – better to stand out than to blend in. And you could tell by the way he carried himself that he knew he stood out.

He wore a black collared shirt buttoned up to his neck, black trousers, and black leather boots. Odd, considering it was summer and the sun was just beginning to shine brightly in the sky. His fair blonde hair was longer than it had been when he was a boy, nearly reaching his shoulders. Subconsciously, he ran his hand through it, pushing it away from his face. The longer hair softened his pointy features, tan from a year spent in the sun of southern France. His eyes though, those striking steel blue eyes, were as harsh as they'd ever been. He took another drag, watched as the smoke disappeared into the air. He was killing time, early in his anticipation.

Suddenly, a body slamming into his side jerked him away from his reflective thought. It was a woman who had turned the corner too quickly. Her papers flew everywhere, her eyes quickly scanned him up and down.

"Oh, shit…." She muttered to herself. And then, making eye contact with the man she so harshly ran into, she flushed and looked down. "Oh Malfoy! I didn't see you... I'm so sorry. Please don't…"

"Stop," he cut her off, raised his hand to indicate his annoyance.

"Just watch where the fuck you're going next time," he mumbled through clenched teeth.

He shook her off. She scurried away, leaving her papers to fly into the intersection.

 _Bloody hell. I'm not ready for this._ Draco thought, flicking the cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out with his heel.

It had been a week since he arrived back in London. He'd already tired of people avoiding him. They think he's a monster, a predator ready to devour his pray. Either fear or hatred is all he gets. Fear and hatred make him feel empty in the same way they used to make him feel powerful.

When they switched sides at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and his parents avoided a life in Azkaban. But they didn't get off without punishment. His parents were sentenced to house arrest for two years. During this time, they were not allowed to use magic, their wands taken away, their actions monitored by the Trace. To the heirs of one of the oldest pureblood families it Britain, the sentence was nearly worse than death. Draco had struck a deal with the Ministry, he was not on house arrest nor deprived of his magical abilities. Instead, Draco had promised to continue his education under the supervision of a Ministry approved tutor.

When the war ended, the Manor was seized by the Ministry. Lucius and Narcissa were permitted to collect some of their prized possessions and family heirlooms, but the reminder of the wealth located in the manor was sold at auctions, the funds paid to the families of victims of the war. Without a place to call home in London, the Malfoys retreated to their county estate in the south of France. Here, they lived a peaceful, if not completely boring, life. Narcissa tended the garden and gossiped with a few friends given permission by the Ministry to visit while Lucius read and wallowed. Malfoy went to class with his ministry-approved-tutor everyday from 9 to 5. In the evenings, he would wander around the country-side. It was because of his ridiculously mundane existence that Draco decided to move back to London once his schooling was complete.

And so there he stood, on a busy corner during the morning rush to work, smoking a cigarette and sneering at the passer-bys. It was nearly time. If you asked him whether he was nervous, he would have told you Malfoys are never nervous because Malfoys are always prepared. Truthfully though, he felt the familiar knot in his stomach created from a swarm of butterflies wrestling with one another as he descended the stairs to the toilets.

* * *

"Are you nervous Hermione?"

"No, Ronald. I'm only about to start the first day of the rest of my life. Why on earth would I possibly be nervous?"

"Touchy aren't we?" Ron replied, looking to Harry for some support. He had just asked an innocent question, hadn't he?

"Look, don't be nervous Hermione. You'll be with Kingsley all day. He'll watch out for you," Harry reassured her.

"Right," She knew her voice sounded confident, but Hermione was anything but.

The three best friends are walking through a quiet muggle neighbourhood on their way to the Ministry. Because it was Hermione's first day, and she was admittedly a bit nervous, Harry had offered to walk her to work. Ron had put up a bit of a fuss, arguing Hermione had actually been to the Ministry before, many times, and under much more stressful circumstances. But something about the early morning walk made Hermione feel peaceful. And so, together, they walked.

"I wonder who the other trainees will be?" Hermione asked for the hundredth time as they neared the entrance to the toilets.

"Hermione, you know we're not allowed to tell you that. Besides, Kingsley only told us about one of the trainees. He kept really tight-lipped about the other," Harry explained.

"So there's three of us. Maybe the other one will be another girl!" Hopefulness transparent in Hermione's voice. It wasn't that she didn't like hanging out with the guys, she just always felt like she lacked real female friends. One would be a good place to start.

"I doubt it," Ron replied.

Hermione cast him a threatening glare.

"What!? Tonks was the only female Auror in the last century who lasted more than a week or two," Ron exclaimed. "And you of course. You defiantly will too," he added for good measure.

After the war, after everything had settled down a bit, Harry and Ron had both began Auror training. Because the stringent qualifications to go into the profession had been lessened following the war, Harry and Ron's lack of N.E.W.T.s did not prevent them being accepted. In fact, it hadn't prevented many eager young students. Kingsley had declared, following the war, that any individual who had successfully fought in the Battle of Hogwarts met the qualifications necessary to become an Auror. Excited at the prospects, a few dozen students had enrolled in the intensive program. Few, however, made it past the first year. Some failed because they became exhausted, others because they didn't enjoy the work, and some because they simply weren't skilled enough. Left behind from the new recruits were Harry and Ron, two Hufflepuffs from their year, and a Ravenclaw from the year above.

While the boys learned how to fight the bad guys, Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts, back to her former home. She completed her seventh year. Now, as she began preparing herself for the future, she placed her personal ambitions aside, choosing instead to join the Aurors in their attempt to put away any remaining Death Eaters.

As they walked down the stairs toward their separate entrances to the Ministry, Harry paused and hugged Hermione.

"Don't worry. You'll do great. We'll see you at lunch," Harry reassured, stepping away and into the queue for the men's toilets.

Ron gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, and bid her good luck. As Ron took his place behind Harry, Hermione took her place amongst the women.

Following an unpleasant journey down the sewer, Hermione walked into the Ministry for the first time in nearly a year. _It looks different, s_ he thought.

A new large statue stood in the centre of the lobby; gone was the celebration of pure blood supremacy and domination over muggles which had occupied the space before. In its place stood a circular disk atop which stood a wizard and witch with cloaks and wands as well as a muggle man and woman, the woman carrying a stack of books, the man dressed in a military uniform. Beside the man and woman was a centaur with his bow and a fully dressed elf. A goblin carrying a fine jewel completed the circle. In the centre was a single column of light, illuminating the faces of the statues, reaching above and disappearing into the glass of the window ceiling. The light filled Hermione with hope. It was then she noticed the inscription written at the base of the statue: " _Happiness can be found even in the darkest of places if one only remembers to turn on the light"._ Hermione sighed, remembering the old wizard who's words were here quoted. His crescent shaped glasses, his long white beard. His words now stood as a reminder, the Ministry, the headquarters of magic in Britain, was the source of the light, that which eliminated the darkest of worlds and created happiness and peace.

"Admiring our new statue, are you?" The low voice heard to her right startled Hermione, lost in her own thoughts.

"Oh, Kingsley! I hadn't seen you come up. It's beautiful", Hermione replied.

"Good to see you again Hermione. I trust you're well?" Kingsley stood now facing Hermione, extending his hand in greeting.

"Very well, sir. And you?"

"Good as can be," Kingsley said, turning now to face away from the statue, toward the elevators filled with arriving workers. "The others should be here any minute and then we'll get started. Ah! Here's one of them now." Kingsley gestured to a young wizard approaching the duo.

Hermione took a moment to size him up. He was clad in a flamboyant looking dark purple suit, had curly auburn hair, freckles and a wide grin. If she hadn't know any better, she would have bet he was the Wesley's long-lost cousin.

"Mr. Morris, pleasure to see you again. May I introduce you to Miss. Hermione Granger," Kingsley said as the man, Morris apparently, came closer. Kingsley gestured to Hermione, "Miss. Granger, Mr. Alexius Morris".

"Just Alex is good," Alexius said, extending his hand to shake Hermione's.

"Pleasure," Hermione replied.

"Well then, there's just one more. Fewer than last year, probably a good thing, we had our hands full with that lot", Kingsley explained, looking around for his last student and spotting him just entering the Ministry. "And here we are," he continued, gesturing now to a certain fair haired, darkly dressed young man who, with an air of confidence boarding on cockiness, walked up to the group. Hermione couldn't help but gape, eyes wide in horror as she evaluated the man approaching them.

"You've got to be kidding me," she murmured under her breath, certain that another person, the real person toward whom Kingsley was gesturing, would step out from behind her former classmate any second now.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy, good to see you. This is Alexius Morris, and I trust you remember Hermione Granger from Hogwarts," Kingsley said by way of introduction.

Just as Draco began to shake hands with Morris, Hermione's voice caused him to pause.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but you've got to be kidding me. Draco Malfoy!? He's a Death Eater," Hermione said, clearly alarmed, clearly pissed.

"Nice to see you again too, Granger," Draco snapped, fixing his face with his signature sneer. "Oh, and you can take your hand off your wand now. I'm pretty sure Shacklebolt won't let me hex you in the middle of the Ministry."

Hermione flushed. She hadn't even realized her hand had instinctively fallen to her cloak pocket, the one which held her wand.

"Miss. Granger, I would like to remind you that Mr. Malfoy is a _former_ Death Eater who has proven himself worthy of this position, just as you have" Kingsley scorned, causing Hermione's cheeks to blush deeper.

Malfoy smirked, "besides, who better to catch a death eater than a death eater turned Auror?"

 _Literally anyone else._ Hermione thought, she kept her mouth quiet though, wanting to avoid further disruptions.

"I feel like I'm missing something here," Alex piped up, he had hung back quietly and watched the nearly volatile exchange between his two new colleagues.

"There's no time to explain now. You'll have many opportunities to become fully acquainted with one another as your training commences. For now, we are already running late. For our first lessons, we'll be heading to the dungeons. Follow me." Kingsley proceeded to lead the three new Aurors to a near by elevator, where they began slowly to descend into the depths of the Ministry.

* * *

Draco took the moment of quiet to size up the situation. He knew Potter and the Weasel would become Aurors, but he never thought Granger would. More brains than bronze, he'd have thought her self-righteous attitude would have prompted her to do something more intellectual. It's not that he liked Granger the least of the famous trio, just that he hated her the most. That snobby, pretentious, know-it-all had made his life shit at school. And now, the thought of another three years standing by her side was far from palatable.

Draco considered quitting, right there, on the spot, before the lesson even started. But, then that would be foolish. And Malfoys were never foolish. He had worked hard to arrive at this place in his life, and he wouldn't give it up. He wanted this more than anything, and no Granger could stop him.

He had always dreamed of being an Auror, but the life he was born into interfered with those goals. Being a Death Eater was a kind of similar except it involved fighting for the wrong side. All Draco wanted now was to be good, to prove he could be good: good enough for himself, good enough for anyone. He hated himself. Hated what he had allowed himself to become.

For the last few years, he felt like his entire world was crumbling around him. Everything he had been raised to believed had proved false. Everyone he loved had been almost lost. Everything he thought he was, it was just an illusion.

Now, Draco had to build a self, a new self, from scratch; a man he was not afraid to be, a man he was not ashamed to be. And he knew building a new self would be tough work. He thought the first place to start was the last place anyone would expect to see him. A Ministry job, an Auror at that.

The opening of the Elevator doors and the mechanical voice announcing: "Basement Level 10: Courtrooms", snapped Draco from his thoughts of quitting.

The group stepped out of the elevator into a narrow black hallway, one which Draco had spent a fair bit of time in before his trial at the Ministry a year before.

"Welcome to the courtrooms of the Ministry of Magic", Kingsley's deep voice echoed through the enclosed space. "Just down this hall here are a group of cells where we keep prisoners from Azkaban who have upcoming trials. This will be the location of your first lesson. Now, can any of you tell me what's special about these cells?" Kingsley regarded his young students, not surprised when he saw Hermione's hand raise above her head from the corner of his eye.

"No need to raise your hand Miss. Granger. What do you know?" Kingsley smiled at her pleasantly while Draco hid a grin. Always the goody-goody, raising her hand.

"The cells at the Ministry of Magic are protected by the Hades Charm which prevents any person from using magic within the cells" Hermione stated clearly.

Draco sneered. He knew the answer as well, she was just quicker to the punch.

"Very good Miss. Granger. The Hades Charm can be used on any enclosed space to ensure that those within the space will be unable to use magic – wands will not work, wandless magic will not work, potions will not take effect, animagus cannot form," with this, Kingsley winked at Hermione. Draco couldn't help but wonder whether she had become an animagus in her last year at Hogwarts? But, before he had time to ponder the idea, Kingsley continued, "No magic what-so-ever. Except, of course, this book." At that, Kingsley held up a small, black leather book.

"Each page in the book has written on it a set of instructions. Only after one set of instructions have been followed completely, does the next page of instructions appear. To demonstrate the use of the book, please follow me," Again, Kingsley lead the group further into the depths of the Ministry, this time, pausing outside a large metal door frame.

With the flick of his wand and no doubt a lengthy unlocking charm whispered under his breath, the door swung open, revealing the small dark cell Draco had come to know. The three new students entered the cell, Kingsley keeping himself just outside the door. The three took a moment to look around.

The dark room was about eight feet wide, eight feet across. There was no source of light inside save the small square of white which acted as its ceiling. The walls ran upwards, extending, Draco thought, as high as the eleven floors of the Ministry. The opening was clearly just a large blank space, revealing the sky above. It made escape seem both possible and entirely impossible, and the imposing never-ending sky-high walls made the small cell feel even more isolating. Draco, the most acquainted with the space, was also the first to turn back to Kingsley, giving him a quizzical look as he wondered what they were going to do.

With that look, Kingsley handed Draco the small black book. Quickly he said, "You will find the first instruction on page one. You may now begin your first lesson."

And with those words, Kingsley shut the door, the sound of metal grinding against metal echoed. Draco looked around quickly, seeing nothing but pitch black. Stuck. Trapped. He was trapped in the cell again. Panic filled him as he felt his heart beat quickly straining to break free from the walls of his rib cage.

"Well.. shit.." Alex's voice rang clear through the silence. And Draco realized he would be forced to spend the next however many hours in a dungeon with Hermione Granger.


	2. No Firm Ground

A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed and favourited, hopefully you like this one as well. Please review, I'd love to hear some feedback about what you like and don't like.

The wonderful world of magic belongs to JKR.

Title Credit: Kate Tempest, a song called "The Beigeness", check it out, it's brilliant.

Thanks again for reading! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: No Firm Ground

"Well.. shit.." Alex's voice range clear through the silence. And Draco realized he would be forced to spend the next however many hours in a dungeon with Hermione Granger.

* * *

Hermione looked around the black void. Immediately, she felt her heart rate increase, her palms sweat, and a familiar feeling in her gut. Fear. She backed up against the nearest wall, running her fingers along the solid surface. Through the darkness she heard a hefty sigh.

"Don't worry Granger," Malfoy's voice was off somewhere in the distance, the opposite corner, perhaps. "I'm not going to hurt you. No magic, remember?" His voice sounded tired, exhausted really. And somehow vaguely reassuring.

Hermione felt the fear evaporate and in its place she felt something entirely new. Guilt? Embarrassment? Pity? She couldn't fathom why she would suddenly feel pity for this monster. Soon enough, Malfoy spoke again and the pity was replaced by repulsion.

"Of course, I could hit you. Get back at you for third year," Hermione could hear the smirk in Malfoy's voice.

"I'm not afraid," Hermione said confidently. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

Malfoy opened the book Kingsley had placed in his hands. For a moment, nothing happened. And then, the page started to glow as an elegant illuminated gold script scrawled across the page. As the others moved closer, Malfoy opened the book wider. Now, they stood in a huddle surrounding the soft yellow light, their faces brightened by its glow. Hermione could see their shadow figures play upon the walls.

Malfoy began reading:

" _In Hades' land you now do dwell,_

 _To escape his world, the tides must swell:_

 _Lethe, Styx and Acheron,_

 _Cocytus and Phlegethon._

 _Your name will show at each step passed,_

 _To help you along, learn trust fast."_

"What do you think it means?" Malfoy looked up, watching the other's as they each attempted to decipher the words. Hermione watched the page. She saw, after Malfoy had finished reading, three names appear at the bottom.

Her name was first: Hermione Granger, written in her neat, small handwriting. Next was Alexius Morris, his looping letters clearly different from her own. Lastly, Draco Malfoy, written in beautiful cursive. To think something so graceful could hail from the same hand that held the wand which killed.

"Greek Mythology," Hermione heard her voice before she even realized she had spoken. "Hades, the lord of the underworld. His land was guarded by five rivers: Lethe, the river of forgetfulness; Styx, the river of hate; Acheron, the river of lamentation; Cocytus, the river of woe; and Phlegethon, the river of fire."

Alex and Malfoy looked at her with bewildered expression.

"How'd you know that?" Alex asked.

"Get used to it, mate. She knows everything," Malfoy replied.

Hermione was slightly taken aback, was that a compliment?

"The idea is that when you're in a world without magic, you're in the underworld, the place where muggles go when they die if they've been bad. Like hell," Hermione explained. Inadvertently, she made eye contact with Malfoy who immediately looked down. Shame?

"Really, it's quite dark magic, based on pureblood ideals. Helpful though, if you know how to cast it. It's very complicated, I've read. You can basically disarm even the most powerful of wizards, but they need to be in an enclosed, relatively small space," Hermione continued.

"So what do we do?" Alex prompted.

"I think we just need to follow the instructions, turn the page Malfoy," Hermione instructed.

He complied. As he turned the page, the light went out again. By the time her eyes had once again familiarized the black, the writing began to appear across the page.

Malfoy read:

" _Lethe,_

 _We keep these in the safest of places,_

 _Concealed from the world to save our faces._

 _Here reveal which nobody knows,_

 _And watch as the water begins to flow."_

"Keep in safe spaces?" Alex's brow furrowed as he talked, "money? And water, where's the water going to come from?"

"I think they mean secrets. We keep them in our hearts to save us from embarrassment, to save face. The water must refer to the river," Hermione said. She wasn't completely sure she was correct, but it was the first thing which popped into her head.

"Secrets, huh? This'll be easy then, you lot don't know me at all," Alex said.

"No," Malfoy replied before Hermione had the chance to, she looked at him, anticipating his next words, "nobody can know them, not just us, something we've never told anyone else."

"Well then. I've never kissed a girl," Alex said, looking downwards.

Hermione's head snapped in Alex's direction. She hadn't anticipated he would so quickly reveal a secret. She then looked at Malfoy, but he was busy studying the page in front of him.

"I don't think it worked, see?" He adjusted the book so it was facing Alex. "Your name didn't appear, it said, your name will show when each step is passed."

"Maybe it just means when all of us have passed it," Alex suggested.

"I don't think so," Hermione replied. "On the previous page, each of our names appeared in our own handwriting, I think it's got to be more personal. When we've individually passed each step, then our name will appear."

"Well, let's try this again," Alex said. He looked down, fidgeted a little, before declaring: "I still can't produce a patronus."

Hermione's eyes raised in alarm. That seemed like such basic magic, something she had learned ages ago.

"Seriously? How the fuck did you get into training?" Malfoy's thoughts clearly reflected Hermione's. Still, she felt the need to defend Alex.

"I bet you can't even make one," Hermione countered, eyes slitting in a threatening glare towards Malfoy.

"Of course I can," He replied, sneering. His steel blue eyes were almost black in the light glaring at Hermione. She felt her pulse quicken.

"Well, what is it then?"

* * *

Truth was, Draco hadn't learned to cast Patronus until quite recently. Before the end of the war, he hadn't needed to. Death eaters, as a rule, were not attacked by Dementors. Because of this, none of the Death Eaters he knew were capable of producing a patronus. Still, when Draco was assigned his Ministry-approved-tutor, it was one of the first things he asked to learn.

And so, out on the field outside his home, Draco had tried and tried and tried and failed to produce a patronus. He remembered the lesson well.

"Alright, Mr. Malfoy," the Ministry-approved-tutor began, "First, you must think of a very happy memory. When you have that memory in your head, simply repeat the phrase we've been practicing: Expecto Patronom."

Draco rolled his eyes. He didn't dislike his Ministry-approved-tutor, he was better than half the professors at Hogwarts. But the tutor did have a habit of treating Draco like a small child.

A happy memory. Draco wracked his brain.

The first time his father had told him he was proud of him, perhaps? That was just after Draco had taken the Dark Mark. A profound memory, but not a happy one.

The last time his father had told him he loved him? That was right before he got on the train to Hogwarts the first time. The memory was tainted by his nerves and excitement.

The first time he kissed a girl? Pansy Parkinson during a game of spin the wand in the Slytherin common-room. Second year. Not really a happy memory, more embarrassing.

The first time he really kissed a girl? Pansy Parkinson, between Herbology and Astronomy, in a secluded corridor of the castle. Sure, that was happy, but it wasn't happy enough.

The first time he had sex with a girl? Astoria Greengrass in the Manor. All of these memories were tainted by time, relationships dwindling due to the ongoing pressures Draco felt surrounded by the presence of the Dark Lord.

He tried again, tried to remember the last time he was truly happy. He thought about his childhood.

Then, he got it.

His birthday, June 5th, the year he turned ten. His father had been away on business and his mother woke him early with his favourite breakfast: eggs and toast with jelly. Then, she had taken him Diagon ally to buy his presents.

First, they went to Eeylops Owl Emporium where he picked out a young, handsome northern white owl who he named Grouch. Next, they went to Florean's to get an ice cream sundae. Last, the biggest surprise of all, his mother had taken him to buy his first real broom. After they had aparated back to the Manor, Draco ran immediately to the yard to play. Letting Grouch out of his cage, he had mounted his new broom and began soaring through the sky, the owl at his side.

That feeling, the wind on his face, the exhilaration, that wasn't the happiest moment which Draco was thinking of when he finally produced the patronus. Rather, it was the look on his mother's face when he landed. She beamed at Draco, her smile, a mixture of pride, worry, and elation. He ran up and hugged her, thanked her for the best birthday he had ever had.

With his mother's face secure in his mind, Draco yelled, "Expecto Patronom", and out from his wand appeared a pale wisp of white light which grew stronger with every second past. Then, the light started taking form as it hovered mere feet from Draco's wand. A head, four long legs, a tail. The animal slowly took a few timid steps away from Draco, turned, sat and regarded him. It bowed his head once, and then faded.

"A wolf" Draco said to Granger, answering her question through clenched teeth. Draco liked the wolf, always poised and elegant, occasionally slightly playful, depending upon Draco's mood. He often produced the creature just for a bit of company.

"Still didn't work," Alex pointed out. Draco and Granger looked down at the page in unison, and sure enough, no name had appeared. Alex's secret was not good enough.

Draco had a hunch.

"I don't think it can be a negative secret, you know, something you haven't done. Because none of us are born knowing how to make a patronus or having already kissed a girl. So until someone tells us otherwise, or shows us, we presume you don't know how and haven't. It needs to be a positive secret," Draco explained, looking from Alex to Granger. She looked like she was thinking hard.

"I think he's right," Granger said, looking only at Alex.

 _Of course I'm right, Granger,_ Draco thought. But he kept quiet, thinking of a secret he could tell.

What should he say? That he had killed someone before? That wasn't a real secret, plenty of people had seen him do it. That he had cried nearly every day for three months before he was supposed to kill Dumbledore? Moaning Myrtle knew that one. That he had terrible nightmares? That could work, though he was sure his cat knew it. Did she pass as a person?

Draco thought next of more mundane things.

* * *

"I wub ma dub fir neet Hogwarts," Hermione heard Malfoy say, looking down as if ashamed. Was that his idea of telling a secret? She was pretty sure it had to be at least audible.

"What was that, mate?" Alex asked, clearly unable to decipher his mumbles as well.

Draco lookup up, no longer ashamed, he looked defiant. As if daring the others to laugh at him, he fixed his gaze just between Hermione and Alex's heads, and said confidently, "I wet my bed my first night at Hogwarts."

Hermione giggled, but soon, the giggle became a full on laugh joined by Alex. Hermione thought of little Malfoy, so arrogant, so sure of himself. And then when she imagined that little boy, that little boy she hated more than anyone, waking up in a puddle of his own pee, she knew she should feel pity, but she just laughed and laughed. Her sides began hurting as she buckled over, and she put her hand over her mouth to ease the noise.

Malfoy stood and did nothing, a silent glare. Then, he said, "Look."

Hermione followed the line of Malfoy's chin which gestured at the book in his hands. Sure enough, his neat cursive appeared at the bottom, he read aloud, "Draco Malfoy, see? I was the first to do it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Prat._

She too started thinking about something which nobody knew, a secret. It was difficult, considering how much of her life had been spent at Ron or Harry's side. Still, she figured it out.

"I cheated on an Ancient Runes test in third year," Hermione blurted out quickly, covering her mouth with her hand again the moment the words escaped, as if on their own volition.

"What!?" She heard Malfoy exclaim, "Are you serious? Miss know-it-all cheated? Man, wait until Babbling hears about this."

"Don't you dare Malfoy!," Hermione said, actually a little bit worried about him revealing her deepest secret. She was, of course, completely ashamed of herself for cheating.

"I would have had time to study if _somebody"_ she glared at Malfoy, "hadn't had his father file a law suit against Hagrid. I had to spend all my free time reading Ministry laws to try and find a way to help him," Hermione explained.

"Oh," Malfoy said, looking down again. She was surprised. She'd thought Malfoy would have countered by saying how much pain he had been in when the Hippogriff hit him, how he had never been able to use his arm the same way again. But, he actually looked sorry.

"Hermione Granger," she had proudly as her signature appeared on the page.

She heard Alex take a deep breath, "well, that's everyone but me, just give a second," he said has he turned around, away from the intimate huddle to stare at the wall. Hermione watched him as he ran his hands through his curly hair, pausing with his knuckles locked together behind his head.

A moment passed.

"I lied when I told my friends I broke my nose on my bicycle when I was nine. I didn't fall. My dad hit me, broke it," Alex said as he turned around facing the ground. Hermione looked at Malfoy. But Malfoy's eyes were fixed on the page in front of him.

Slowly, as if the book was thinking about whether the secret was good enough, the name began to appear: Alexius Morris.

"There," Malfoy said. Ignoring Alex's confession. "We're done." He turned the page and once again began reading.

Before he had time to begin, Hermione felt the ground underneath her feet shift. It seemed as though the others did too, each retreating to separate walls as they grasped the sides. The faint light from the book illuminated Malfoy's face, panic stricken, as Hermione descended into the darkness. The floor rumbling, it seemed to drop a few inches underneath their feet. She felt something then, something cold, on her toes. She picked up her feet one by one, feeling them. Wet.

"What the hell…" She heard Malfoy's voice from across the chamber.

"Blood?" Her voice sounded small even to herself.

"Water," Malfoy replied.

"Water." Alex repeated. It began to rise. Slowly at first, and then suddenly very quickly.

"What do we do?" Malfoy's voice was slightly stressed.

"I don't know!" Hermione replied quickly. The water was already up past their knees. She gripped the wall harder. Before long, it was passed her waist, filling the cell quickly.

"Can you swim?" She heard Malfoy's voice ask into the emptiness.

"Yes," Hermione and Alex replied in unison.

The water rose higher, nearly to her shoulders. Then, she lifted her feet from the bottom, and began slowly circling her legs around.

"It's almost at my head, I can't breathe," Alex yelled.

"SWIM!" Hermione said, "It's not going to stop rising,"

She could still hear a slight rumbling, the water entering at the bottom of the cell through cracks in the walls.

She closed her eyes, tried to focus, and wracked her brain for a possible solution. When she opened them again, she felt as though they had risen a dozen feet, the water bringing the three trainees upwards with it.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the sound of the water rushing through the wall stopped.

She kept swimming.

"Is everyone alright?" She heard Alex's voice.

"Fine," Hermione said.

"Just dandy," She heard Malfoy's reply, sarcastic.

"What now?" Alex urged.

"Look," Draco replied, "we're closer to the top. Maybe the water will rise and we will be able to climb through the hole in the ceiling to escape."

Hermione was impressed, she had been thinking the same thing. The rivers, the water, it made sense now. They had to flood the cell to reach to the top and escape. They just needed to keep swimming until the task was complete.

The three trainees were still separated: Malfoy on the opposite wall, the book held above his head, illuminating the space. Alex was on the far wall of the cell, gripping the hard stone with one hand as he swam. Hermione, opposite Malfoy, also held firmly to the wall with one hand, swinging her legs around beneath her.

"Malfoy," She commanded again, "read the next one."

" _Styx:_

 _With hate in our hearts we cannot get close,_

 _Name now the one you hate the most._

 _When each name is named, the water will rise,_

 _When the game`s complete, you`ll get your prize,"_

"Who we hate?" Alex questioned to no one in particular. "That's easy," he continued, "my father. Bastard beat me every day of my life for five years."

"That's seriously fucked up," Hermione heard Draco say. She was surprised he had any ability to sympathize, however harshly.

"I'm sorry, Alex," She said as well, trying to console him like she would a friend.

"Never mind it, better off without him anyway," Alex said as his name appeared at the bottom of the page.

Hermione thought about it. The first person she thought of was Voldemort. But, even though he had killed countless people, her best friend's parents included, she couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the man.

She remembered how Dumbledore had explained to Harry that Voldemort couldn't love because he was made using a love potion. She felt empathy, a life without love was a life not lived, she thought.

She thought next of Malfoy, the man who had tormented her throughout childhood. Still, she couldn't honestly say she hated him the most.

Her mind went next to Bellatrix. Bellatrix had no excuse, she could love, and she did love: torturing and killing. She was truly evil.

"Bellatrix," Hermione said confidently. "She's the reason I have this scar," she explained.

"Scar?" Alex asked.

"Mudblood, etched onto my skin forever," Hermione replied. He would see it later.

"That's horrible," Alex replied.

"Voldemort," Hermione heard Malfoy said, she squinted her eyes, suspicious. She couldn't see his face, but he sounded as if he was laughing.

"Voldemort?" She questioned.

"Voldemort," Malfoy replied, more confidently now. No further explanation was provided.

"Are you kidding?" Hermione said, she wouldn't let Malfoy get away with this one. "You followed him for years, you and your whole family. You fought with him in the war. You killed for him! And you're telling me you hate him the most?"

"Look Granger. I don't have to explain myself to you." Malfoy countered. "Our names are already on the page, let's just get on with it."

She heard him roughly turn to the next page in the small black book.

* * *

 _How dare she? She has no idea what I've been through,_ Draco thought. He was becoming increasingly agitated. He felt claustrophobic in the tight space and one of his legs had begun to cramp from the swimming. Just as he went to read the next passage, he heard the grumping of the walls moving once again. The water began to rise. When it ceased, they were perhaps twenty feet closer to the white square which acted as the opening to the cell.

"My legs are starting hurt," Draco heard Alex protest. He didn't reply. Neither did Granger, to her credit. Of course all of their legs hurt, no reason to complain about it.

" _Acheron:_

 _Oh, Acheron, your tears do flow,_

 _Reveal the regret over which you woe,_

 _Fill the chamber with your tears,_

 _And learn the trials of your peers,"_

Draco finished reading. A regret eh? He had plenty of those. Before he could speak, he heard Granger from the far wall.

"Ron. I regret what happened between me and Ron. I'd thought we were perfect for each other, but with everything going on, me back at Hogwarts, him starting training, it just didn't work out. I so wanted it to, we tried so hard, but it didn't work," Hermione exclaimed.

"No such thing, Granger," Draco said.

"What?" Hermione's voice is indignant.

"No such thing as right person, wrong time. If it's the right person, it's always the right time. We just tell ourselves that to make ourselves feel better." Draco explained. He knew that well. He had really liked Astoria, and he told himself that when everything was over, the war, the murdering, the Death Eaters, they would be happy together. But, things didn't work out as planned. They grew apart, she fell in love with another man when Draco was in France.

"What do you know about love Malfoy? You don't even have a heart," Granger countered.

He clenched his jaw, he clenched his fists. If he had been able to hex her, he definitely would have. Where did she get off telling him he knew nothing? She knew nothing!

"Ganger, you know nothing about me," He said, a threat transparent in his voice.

"Well what's yours then Malfoy? You think you're so wise. What do you regret? Surely the great Malfoy has never made a mistake," Her voice was taunting.

"You know what I was going to say Granger?" Draco heard his own voice, louder than intended, nearly yelling. "I was going to say I regretted not trying to stop Bellatrix from torturing you in the Manor. But, I don't think I regret that anymore. I'll change it. I regret torturing Amelia Bones before _I_ killed her. There, are you happy!? Am I the monster you want me to be Granger? Because I can do a lot worse," Draco challenged.

"You disgust me," was Granger's reply.

Draco fumed.

Silence filled the cell once again.

Then, Draco heard Alex's voice, quiet at first, gaining strength. "I never said goodbye. I mean, he beat me and he called me names and he threatened to kill me, but I really regret not saying goodbye. He died all alone in the hospital. At the time, I would have spit in his face if I saw him. But now I wish I said goodbye. Maybe just to ask why."

Silence.

"My father, I mean," Alex explained.

Silence.

"Oh Alex, I'm so sorry. That must be so hard, living without closure," Hermione's voice was thick with empathy.

Malfoy remained quiet as the chamber filled once again with water, raising the trio closer to the light.

Malfoy turned the page. Clearing his throat, he read,

" _Cocytus:_

 _We all have wept over one's we've lost,_

 _Wrapped our hearts in a layer of frost._

 _Tell us now about those you love,_

 _To rise the floods up above,"_

Draco heard Alex scoff.

"You know, I'm getting really tired of this book," Alex said.

"Never trust something that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain," Hermione replied.

Draco rolled his eyes. "What are you on about now Granger? Let's just get this thing done. Does it need to be someone we've lost or just someone we love?" He asked.

"Test it," Hermione replied.

"My mother," Draco said, firmly. "I love her. Throughout everything, she was always strong, always put her family first. She protected me when I couldn't protect myself."

"Is she still alive?" Hermione asked.

"Last I checked," Draco replied.

The name Draco Malfoy appeared at the bottom of the page indicating he had passed this stage. Four down, one to go.

* * *

Despite the fact that Hermione was angry with Draco, she couldn't help be a little awestruck. Malfoy loved his mother, above everyone else. She'd thought he would say some girl, some skag he was fucking. But no, his mother.

Hermione's came easily to her as well.

"Harry," she said simply. "He saved us all." She could nearly feel Malfoy's annoyance with her answer. But, it was the truth. And she saw from the distance the black book glow as her name appeared at the bottom.

"Grandmother," Alex said, "took me in after my father died and tried her best to stop him from hurting me when we were young.". His name too appeared.

Malfoy held the book up to his face, covering his features, and turned the page. Hermione let go of the wall as the water began to rise again. She could feel her toes beginning to prune. They were nearly there though, a mere 10 feet from the white space.

" _Phlegethon:_

 _Fire, passion, heat and flame,_

 _Each of us is all the same._

 _Tell me now of whom you seek,_

 _The flood will then reach its peak,"_

"So someone we're lusting after? Passion, heat…" Alex asked.

"You know," Hermione began, "I don't think that's what it means. Someone we're looking for. Strangely, the first person I thought of is myself" She paused, collecting her thoughts.

"With everything that's happened with the war and all, I was so caught up in helping Harry to defeat Voldemort. I really didn't have any time to think about myself. And then at Hogwarts, I was so focused on passing my N.E.W.T.s I barely had time to think at all. So me, I'm looking for myself," Hermione finished.

Silence.

She heard Malfoy sigh.

"Me too. Everything's been so fucked up," Malfoy agreed.

"Yeah. I know I didn't fight in the war, but with my family and all, it's been a difficult few years. I came here to prove something to myself," Alex said.

As the page glowed around Malfoy, the water began again to rise, this time, bringing Hermione's head just a few centimeters from the white light. She could see clearly now. Malfoy looked exhausted as his head bobbed up and down across from her. Alex looked equally tired and somewhat sad to her left.

She looked up. She saw that the white light above their heads was just that, a light, not a blank space revealing the sky. The ceiling was charmed, just like the roof of the great hall at Hogwarts, to reflect the sky beyond. The others, also looking up, noticed too.

"It's blocked," Alex said, alarmed.

"How could I have been so stupid," Hermione said. "Of course it's blocked. The Hades charm only works in enclosed spaces, if the ceiling was open, we'd be able to use magic."

"Fuck," Malfoy said.

"You mean we're trapped in here? I don't know how much longer I can swim," Alex nearly shouted.

"Calm down," Hermione instructed, "we need to think."

"We don't have time to think!" Alex yelled. "You don't think the Ministry would let us die in here on our first day do you?"

Just as Alex said those words, Hermione felt cool air on her face. She looked up to see that the square blocking their passage out had disappeared. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the new, hasher light. In a corner, she saw Kingsley's dark handsome face appear.

"Of course not, Mr. Morris. Here," Kingsley said as he placed a latter down into the cell.

Alex climbed up first, followed by Hermione. He offered her his hand as she groped for the ground.

Malfoy ascended last.

Exhausted, it was all Hermione could do climbing out of the watery pit to lie down on the soft grass beneath her feet, looking up at the bright sunny sky dotted with a few white clouds.

The others, clearly as tired, did the same. Kingsley waited patiently as the three caught their breaths.

Hermione was the first to rise, sitting up slowly, and then standing face to face with Kingsley. She was followed shortly by Malfoy, and then Alex.

"You should have seen your faces," Kingsley said, grinning, "quite priceless"

The three gathered together around Kingsley, sopping wet. She was freezing.

It was only then Hermione remembered she could once against use magic. She pushed her hand into her cloak pocket which was sticking to her thigh, and reached for her wand. Saying a quick drying spell, she felt her body tingle as it began to warm.

She watched as Draco did the same.

Except, his actions weren't exactly the same. He merely extended his hand, palm down, and waved it quickly in front of his body, his black clothes drying instantly. _He knows wandless magic,_ Hermione thought. She admonished herself for not being able to perform that particular charm without a tool. She wasn't one to be stood up, especially by a Malfoy. Alex too died himself with his wand.

"Congratulations," Kingsley began, "you passed our first lesson. A trust building exercise. Elaborate, I know. But we felt it necessary given the number of new recruits and the tension which has inflicted the magical community in recent years."

"Did it always do that, fill with water?" Malfoy asked as he pushed his still wet hair off his face. He looked now like he did when he was a boy, pointy features and slick back hair. Hermione was reminded once again why she hated him.

"Yes. Normally, the water is only triggered when an inmate attempts to climb the walls to escape. When they get to the top, they drown," Kingsley explained. "We had to invent a number of spells to ensure it would only fill when the game was won."

"That's horrible," Hermione said. She couldn't imagine that the Ministry would allow inmates to drown in their cells, probably a death worse than any wizard could inflict with magic.

"Merely a precautionary measure, Miss. Granger," Kingsley replied. "We've never had to use it."

"Anyway, you three look exhausted. If you'll follow me, I'll show you the Auror's dining hall and you can have some lunch. I believe you have some friends waiting for you, Granger," Kingsley said as he turned around.

Hermione had nearly forgotten. She would have to explain all that they had been through to Ron and Harry. She could hardly wait, excited to see her two best friends after spending the morning with Malfoy.

The three trainees followed Kingsley as they left the grassy knoll which operated as a courtyard at the Ministry. A few witches and wizards stood by idly or sat on benches eating their lunch in the summer sun. Kingsley nodded to them as they passed, a few waved back.

They got back into a Ministry elevator from the lobby and preceded onwards. A short while later, the mechanical voice announced, "Basement Level 2: Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Headquarters, Wizengamot Administration Services."

"This way please," Kingsley continued.

The Auror headquarters looked much like the parts of the Ministry Hermione had already seen. A large white room divided with short walls into a series of cubicles. Along the walls hung a few wanted posters of various Death Eaters, as well as some paintings of former Aurors, including, Hermione noted, one of Moody and Tonks who waved brightly at her as she passed. Moody merely nodded his head, but Hermione was sure his slight smile indicated he was pleased to see her there. A few doors also dotted the walls, each with a small gold plaque in the centre, listing the name of the Wizard to whom the office belonged.

After a short walk, they came into a slightly smaller room filled with tables and benches. Atop the tables were a variety of dishes.

"Gotta use the loo," She heard Alex say behind her. She turned to see him walk away and noticed Malfoy was nowhere in sight. _Suspicious,_ she thought. Then, she noticed a familiar red head looking in her direction, and saw Harry wave her over. She brightened instantly.

"I'll see you after lunch Mr. Shacklebolt," She said as she parted ways with Kingsley to walk over to her friends.

"You look like hell," Ron said as she sat down beside him, across from Harry.

"Thank you, Ronald," Hermione replied as she placed some food on her plate. God, he could be so insensitive sometimes.

"I take you just spent the morning in the dungeons?" Harry asked.

"You knew about this? Why didn't you warn me?"

"Couldn't bloody well do that, could we?" Ron replied.

"Confidentiality agreement," Harry explained. "You'll sign one after lunch,"

"Right." Hermione accepted their answer. She knew much of what she learned in her training she would be unable to discuss with anyone, even Ron and Harry.

"Should have seen it when we did it," Ron said as he shoved a chicken leg into his mouth, "there were seven of us, it look forever to get through everyone. I could barely feel my legs when we finished."

"Look," Harry said urgently but quietly, lowering his head so he was slightly hidden behind Hermione and Ron.

Hermione turned around slowly. She watched as Malfoy made his way into the dining hall, choosing a table on the far side of the room, near the fake window. He sat silently, away from all the others. As he put some food on his plate, he kept his head lowered. He then retrieved a book from his bag, opened it, and fixed his full attention on the pages.

"What the hell is he doing here?!" Ron whisper yelled.

"Oh my gosh," Hermione answer. "I totally forgot to tell you. Malfoy is training with me."

"What," Ron said beside her, choking on his pumpkin juice. "He's a death eater for fuck's sake."

"That's what I said," Hermione replied, "well, nearly what I said. Less vulgarity."

"Kingsley must trust him, wouldn't be here unless he'd been hired, right?" Harry said, raising his eye brows skeptically.

"Yes," Hermione replied, "He said Malfoy's a former Death Eater and that he earned the position."

"What kind of secrets did he have to tell? I bet they were really dark," Ron asked.

"You know I can't tell you that," Hermione said. "Besides, I can barely remember. I was just trying to stay afloat." Truth was, Hermione had been impressed by some of Malfoy's secrets. And now, as she turned around again to steal a few sideways glances at him, she couldn't help but think of how different he looked.

At school, he always sat with a crowd of friends surrounding him, laughing and joking with them, looking so at ease. Now, he looked as though merely touching another person would kill him. He looked alone.

When Alex reappeared, she invited him to sit with Harry, Ron and herself. Together, they joked about the secrets game and filled hungry stomachs.

When lunch was over, Hermione, Malfoy and Alex were escorted to a small office. There, they met Gawain Robards, the new Leader of the Auror Office. The trainees began learning about the various laws which affected their jobs. All and all, it was an uneventful afternoon. Hermione however, didn't mind. She had always excelled in the class room and needed a rest after the morning's activities.

* * *

Draco walked quietly along the muggle street as the sun began to set on London. He was headed home after a long day at his new job. He smoked a cigarette and ran the events over in his head. He had been worried Ron and Harry were going to attack him when they saw him at Lunch. He took the brief opportunity before entering the dining hall to deke outside, smoke and collect his thoughts.

To his surprise though, nothing had happened. He sat down to eat his lunch and read his book without incident. He stole glances every now and then at the famous trio, watching as the chatted away animatedly. He couldn't help but feel jealous. He missed his friends, his parents even. He had felt extremely isolated since moving back to London.

He threw his cigarette on the ground as he approached his flat. He could have aparated, but Draco enjoyed the short walk from Wizarding London out to muggle London, along the bustling streets, toward his quiet neighbourhood. He could hide among the crowds, he could think while he walked.

His first day at the Ministry hadn't been exactly what he'd expected. He certainly hadn't expected to see Granger. He didn't mind the other trainee, Alex. He seemed to have a bit of a fucked up past, but then again, who doesn't? He thought back about the secrets Granger had revealed.

She'd clearly gone back to Hogwarts for another year of school. And she loved Potter. She and the Weasel had a thing but it didn't work out. Maybe she was in love with potter? He always thought it would be Potter and the Weaselette.

She had said she hated Bellatrix which didn't strictly mean she didn't hate him too, just that she hated Bellatrix more.

She was also lost. That's what struck Draco most, she went to the Ministry in part to figure herself out. Same as him. In the end, we're all just scared, of the future and of ourselves.

He climbed up the five stories slowly, his legs tired from the swim. Arriving at his landing, he took out his wand and said a few unlocking charms, opened the door and walked in.

He paused to take of his leather boots off and headed to the kitchen. He didn't make it far however, nearly falling over the cat who winded her way around his ankles. He paused, bending down to scratch her under her chin.

"Hi Sappho. I know, I was gone for a while. It'll be like this from now on," Malfoy said, resuming his walking. "Hungry?"

He went to the kitchen, he charmed a spoon to scoop cat food into her bowl while he prepared himself a turkey sandwich. Taking his plate into the dining room, he sat at the table and was joined by Sappho, his grey tabby. Sappho's deep blue eyes watched his plate expectably.

"You want some turkey, eh?" Draco asked, ripping off little pieces to feed to her. She meowed in appreciation.

After finishing his dinner, Draco took a quick shower and climbed into bed, exhausted from the long day.

Sappho curled up at his side.

"You'll never guess who was there today," he told the cat.

"Hermione Granger. You remember when I told you about her, right?" He asked.

"Of course you do. Cause you're the smartest kitty," Draco doted while he rubbed her stomach.

 _What the hell am I doing?_ Draco thought, rolling his eyes at himself. _Here I am explaining my day to a cat. I really need to get out more._

Draco curled onto his side and prepared himself for a night of wicked dreams and insomnia triggered by fear. It would be a long night. Followed by a long day. Followed by another long night.

Followed by a long life spent alone.

Draco sighed. Sappho purred at his side.

* * *

A/N 2: I think I accidentally made Draco into a crazy-cat lady? He'll be cooler next time, I promise.

Next chapter: Draco, Hermione, and Alex get their first assignments as Auror trainees.


	3. Friends and Family

A/N: This chapter took an unintended turn because I wanted to explore more of the character's lives outside of work. It doesn't have many Draco/Hermione talking scenes. But, we learn a little bit more about each of them. It's a Draco heavy chapter.

The next chapter will be more Auror-action packed, with Hermione and Draco receiving their first missions. It's nearly complete, I'll post it soon.

Heads up that there's a rather long sex scene in this one. It's not between Draco and Hermione, we're still working our way up to that one. This is the first sex scene I've written, they'll get better.

Thanks for reading, and following and favourting. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review! Comments are super helpful. Also, I'll work on the dramatics ;)

And thanks to JKR for creating these characters and their world.

* * *

Chapter 3: Friends and Family

Hermione awoke early, her muscles stiff from exhaustion. It was Saturday, her first day off in nearly two weeks.

She stretched slowly, rising from her bed and walking the short distance to the nearby bay window which overlooked the adjacent park. She peered out. Her eyes were met with those of a small barn owl. She opened the window, allowing him to jump inside onto her windowsill.

"Good morning," she cooed, rubbing his cheek softly with her fingers as her other hand untied the heavy parchment attached to his small leg. Once it was released, the owl chirped quietly, as if biding Hermione goodbye, before ruffling his feathers and flying back outside. She watched his elegant figure as it disappeared into the distance.

Collecting her Daily Prophet, Hermione went to her kitchen where she poured herself a cup of coffee before unravelling the paper and scanning the headline: "Professor McGonagall Tells All". Below was a picture of McGonagall standing in front of the doors of Hogwarts, her petite hands folded in front of her body, a small smile on her face.

Hermione began to read:

" _Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat down with Daily Profit Reporter Jacob Hornby to discuss her expectations for the upcoming school year, the legacy of Albus Dumbledore, and the important work of the Order of the Phoenix. Full story page 7."_

Hermione sighed. Not a day went by when she didn't encounter yet another reminder of the war. Her mind filled quickly with the images she fought so hard to erase: Lupin and Tonks chatting quietly in the corner while the rest of the Order ate dinner, Fred Weasley laughing at some joke George had made, Madeye's perpetual seriousness… She thought of Teddy growing older without a mother or father, of George running the joke shop without his other half, of those who had lost the ones they loved. Despite the sun peeping through the nearby window, Hermione felt gloomy.

Putting down the paper, she picked up her coffee cup and walked into her small bathroom. She drew a bath, filling the tub with her favourite bubble bath. Letting her lavender coloured slip fall to the floor, she rested her cup on the ledge and climbed in. Her muscles relished the warm water. She lay her head back against the wall, closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

It had been a month since she had begun Auror training. Her days consisted primarily of two components: practical lessons and theoretical lessons. The theoretical lessons usually took place in the morning. The three trainees would sit in Robards' office listening to his harsh staccato voice drone on about laws and policies, spells and counter spells, and the profiles of Death Eaters still on the run.

The more difficult component of training was comprised of duels. Because of her talent and experience, Hermione had expected to easily beat both Malfoy and Alex during these practical lessons. Yet, she found herself increasingly frustrated every time she lost. Which, she had to admit, was about as often as she won, especially when duelling Malfoy.

Malfoy proved a quick, creative thinker who was adept at wandless magic. Once or twice, Hermione had declared herself the winner of a duel, holding Malfoy's wand securely in her hand, only to be stripped of her victory when his silent and wandless accio pulled his wand back to its rightful owner.

Still, what Hermione lacked in quickness she made up for in precision, rarely missing her target. And while she wasn't as creative as Malfoy, who often did exactly the opposite of what seemed logical, her powerful shield charms made her a nearly impenetrable fortress.

The lessons also made clear why Alex was chosen to start Auror training. While he didn't know nearly as many as spells as Hermione and was clearly less talented than both Hermione and Malfoy, he was agile and athletic, able to deke away from a spell he could not counter. Further, his ridiculously good memory allowed him to excel in theoretical lessons where he learned quickly.

All the training had taken its toll on Hermione's body. She planned to spend her afternoon planted in front of her television watching old muggle movies on her VCR. A lazy day followed by what promised to be a great evening. For dinner, Hermione was headed to the Burrow to celebrate Ginny's 18th birthday.

* * *

"Father," Draco said, nodding towards the man who had answered the door. His mother stood at his father's side, her face bright with a smile.

"Mother, good to see you," he acknowledged, bending down to kiss her cheek.

"Draco, we've missed you," his mother replied, turning to walk the short distance to the nearby sitting room in the cottage. It was the first time he had returned to France since leaving the month before.

Draco and Lucius followed Narcissa silently. Entering the room, Draco took a seat on the antique chair near the window. He rubbed his hands up and down his legs for comfort. He had always felt out of place in their family's sitting rooms, like he wasn't allowed to touch any of the furniture, all of it priceless. Lucius took his seat next to his wife on the opposite, matching sofa.

"Milta!" Lucius yelled to no one.

Draco rolled his eyes as he heard a loud "pop" which indicated the arrival of the cottage's house wife.

"Yes, Master Malfoy," Milta's small, squeaky voice said as she bowed to her owners.

"Milta, fix us some tea and biscuits," Lucius ordered.

"Yes, sir. Coming, sir," Milta replied. Another popping sound and she had disappeared.

"So, how have you been?" Draco asked.

He hated the formal atmosphere at his parent's estate. He sat with his back straight, his hands folded now, neatly in his lap. He felt his father and mother's penetrating gazes.

"Fine," Narcissa replied.

"Bored," Lucius added.

"You should really get a hobby," Draco countered. He remembered living in the cottage where he too was bored. His father had spent nearly every day sitting in his study reading and re-reading the same handful of old books.

"A hobby? What do you suggest Draco? I cannot do anything, I don't have my wand." Lucius's voice always sounded condescending to Draco.

"I don't know. Get a dog. Learn to paint. Anything," Draco countered.

"A dog? Good heavens, I can't possibly imagine your father caring for a dog," Narcissa replied, a laugh in her eyes.

A pop. Mitla reappeared with the tea. Setting her tray down on the table by the door, she offered a cup first to Lucius, then to Narcissa, and finally to Draco.

"That will be all Milta," Lucius said before the elf once again popped out of the room.

"Is training going well?" Narcissa asked, sipping her tea.

"Yes,' Draco replied. Truthfully, he felt like he had been beat up a hundred times over the past few weeks, his muscles sore and his limbs bruised. Granger had even broken his nose once. She claimed it was accidental, a misfired spell, but Draco was positive her aim was accurate. Robards had been able to repair the break relatively easily, but Draco still felt reminisce of the wound if he touched his face.

"Is Potter there?" Lucius asked.

"You know he is." Draco took a sip of his tea and looked over the countryside through the window. Vaguely, he missed the solace those fields had provided. Although he certainly didn't miss the man sitting opposite him.

"You know," Lucius began, "I'm disappointed in you. I'd always imagined you'd take over the family business, live up to your name."

"There is no family business, Father, in case you forgot," Draco replied through clenched teeth.

"Only because we are stuck here without any contact with the magical community. If I were back in Britain, I'd certainly be able to run the business from my study, as you could do, albeit less sufficiently."

"It's not my fault you're here," Draco replied.

"Certainly it is. If we hadn't had to protect you, if you had fulfilled your duties to the Dark Lord, we would never be in this mess," Lucius countered.

"Regardless of my actions, Potter would have killed Voldemort, Father. You placed your faith in the person."

"I had no choice Draco. Don't you understand that? We did not have a choice."

"You had a choice father, you always had a choice. You just didn't make the right one until the last minute," Draco replied. Lucius and Draco had some version of this conversation nearly every time they spoke since the war. Lucius maintained if it hadn't been for Draco's fragility, they would never have lost the war. Somehow, the entire thing had been his fault in his father's eyes. Draco sighed.

"We did what we had to do to keep you safe, dear," Narcissa added. Despite what Draco knew she believed about Voldemort's philosophy and actions, Narcissa rarely went against what her husband said. Draco had had numerous conversations with her after the war about how she believed pure-blood supremacy was an archaic belief, about how she regretted the way she had raised her son.

"You failed," Draco spat. "I was never safe. Not with him around."

"I've had quite enough, Draco," Lucius replied in a threatening tone.

"Excuse me," he stood, glaring at Draco, towering above him. Regardless of his age, Lucius remained a harrowing figure. Draco looked down, ashamed at himself for speaking so bluntly to his father. Lucius left the room then, retreating, no doubt, to his study.

Once he had gone, Draco looked up at his mother who was watching him closely.

"I'm proud of you, you know," she said softly.

"What?" Draco nearly choked on his biscuit. It had been years since his mother had told him she was proud of him.

"You got out of here. You've grown up so much this past year. I would hate to see you wallowing here like your father," Narcissa explained.

"Well, thanks, I guess," Draco looked backed out the window. His mother hadn't exactly encouraged his desire to pursue a career with the Ministry, but unlike his father, she hadn't outright opposed the idea either.

"Is it fading?" Narcissa asked. "Your father's is fading. Barely a scar now."

"Is what fading?"

"You know very well what," Narcissa said, raising an eyebrow at Draco's insolence.

"No," Draco replied, looking down, rubbing his arm where the dark mark was etched into his skin.

"I suspect because yours is newer it will take longer to disappear," Narcissa hypothesized.

"Right."

Draco hated that mark on his arm, it stood as an admission of his guilt and a reminder of his past morally dubious actions. He wore long sleeves nearly all the time, even when around his flat, in an attempt to hide the mark. Still, it haunted him.

"Your hair is long," Narcissa said, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Draco replied. _Merlin get me out of here,_ he thought. The last thing he wanted to do on his day off was sit in his mother's house talking about his hair.

"You should brush it out of your face, like your fathers," Narcissa commented.

 _Yeah, that's exactly what I want, to look more like him._ Draco merely faked a smile at his mother in response.

"Well, I better be off," Draco said, raising from his chair.

"So soon?" His mother said, although she kept a smile on her face, Draco was sure he saw sorrow in her eyes and felt somewhat guilty. He guessed as much as he hated being around his wallowing father, she must hate it more, being stuck with him all day.

"I have things I need to do today, Mother," Draco replied, walking with her back to the front door. "I'll visit soon," he added, trying to console her slightly, even if he didn't intend to keep his word.

"Good. You can come any time you know. For dinner, even if it's late. After you're done at work," Narcissa rambled.

"I know. I'll see what I can do," Draco replied. He bent down and kissed her cheek again, "Goodbye, tell father I said goodbye."

Narcissa gave a slight smile as Draco opened the door to leave. He could sense her watching him as he moved past the front gate, past the apparition barrier, and quickly disappeared into thin air.

* * *

Hermione felt the familiar pull at her navel as her body hurled through time and space and eventually landed harshly on the wet ground in an empty corn field. Getting her bearings straight, she looked up to see a crooked black house with twinkling yellow lights off in the distance. A smile crept onto her face as she made her way closer through the bog. Soon enough, she was standing outside the door.

"Hermione!" Molly said as she pulled the girl into a tight hug, squeezing the air from her lunges. Hermione relished the comfort of the embrace.

"Hi Molly, thanks for having me," She replied courteously.

"Nonsense, nonsense, we're pleased you could be here. I've been cooking all day preparing for dinner. Come in, come in, everyone is sitting out back in the yard," Molly said as she ushered Hermione into the Burrow.

Hermione walked through the kitchen, smelling the brilliant aroma of Molly's home cooked ham. She missed Molly's cooking, hers paled in comparison.

Entering the back yard, Hermione saw the group of her closest friends and colleagues sitting round in a circle of mismatched chairs. Just beyond them, a large dining table was set for dinner. Lights twinkled overhead.

"Hermione!" Ginny's arms circled her in an embrace.

"Hi Ginny! Happy Birthday!" Hermione replied, squeezing the girl equally hard. "Here," Hermione handed Ginny the neatly wrapped package she was carrying.

"Thanks. I'll put it with the others. Mum wants me to open presents after dinner," Ginny explained, moving off to the side to put the parcel on a small table with a handful of others.

Hermione looked around at the familiar faces. She saw Arthur Weasley sitting between George and Bill who had Fleur on his lap. Beside them were Ron, Harry and an empty chair she presumed belonged to Ginny who had disappeared from sight. Beside the empty chair was Andromeda and beside her, Kingsley. Percy sat beside Kingsley with his new girlfriend, a woman named Audrey whom Hermione had met only a handful of times. Charlie sat on the ground in the middle of the circle playing dinosaurs with Teddy.

Hermione stole the extra seat beside Harry.

"Sorry I'm late," she said to Harry and Ron.

"How was your day off?" Harry asked.

Hermione groaned. "I'm so sore, I couldn't do anything but sit in front of the telly."

Harry grinned. "Remember Ron after his first month? He could barely stand," Harry remarked.

"Hey! It's not my fault. Harry hexed me during a duel in the first week. Broke five of my ribs, he did," Ron retaliated.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to Ron to exaggerate. If she remembered correctly, and she was certain she did, Harry had only bruised two ribs, none were broken.

"Everyone gather round, dinner's ready!" Molly's voice rang out through the yard.

Hermione eased herself slowly out of her chair and went to sit at the dining table. She ended up between Arthur and George.

Her plate began to fill with a wave of Molly's wand with succulent pieces of roasted ham. Hermione only realized then that she was truly starving.

"Hello, Hermione," Arthur greeted her, "Training going well?"

"Yes, I'm exhausted though," Hermione replied between bites of food. "How are you?"

"Good, good. Wait until I show you what I confiscated at work this week," Arthur said excitedly. "It's in the garage, don't tell molly. We found one of those, what do you call it? Portable telemaphonics?"

"Telephones. Cell phone?" Hermione corrected gently.

"Really new, just got on the muggle market. It's like a regular telemaphone, but smaller. How they get all those voices in there I'll never understand," Arthur explained.

"Dad's going to use it to prank call muggles," George said quietly on her other side.

"George Weasley!" Molly's voice nearly yelled from across the table. Hermione giggled, that woman had ears like a bat. "Don't give your father any bright ideas."

"I assure you Molly, I haven't a clue what he is talking about," Arthur yelled across to Molly.

Then Arthur turned to look at George and said, under his breath, "Can I do that? I can talk to muggles with that thing-a-ma-gig?"

"Oh yeah, Dad. You just need their telephone number," George whispered.

"GEORGE!" Molly's voice said again, this time louder and more exasperated.

Hermione giggled again. Over the years she had come to think of the Weasley's as her second family, within which she felt fully comfortable.

"So, George, how's business?" Hermione asked, changing the subject to keep him and Arthur from any more trouble.

"Good as can be. We're selling straight out of puking pastilles and fake wands, with all the kids going back to Hogwarts," George explained.

"Did you see that article on McGonagall in the prophet this morning?" Hermione asked.

"Sure did," Arthur replied, "Nothing we didn't already know, right?"

Hermione agreed. Really, all McGonagall had talked about was how Hogwarts was paying close attention to inter-house conflicts this year, how Dumbledore had improved the school tremendously, and a little about how the Order had organized around Harry to defeat Voldemort. She could tell the interviewer was hoping McGonagall would dish on the operation and members of the Order of the Phoenix as none of the members had been particularly forth coming with details. But, true to her nature, McGonagall had kept quite tight lipped.

Hermione continued to chat and joke with George and Arthur throughout the meal. When everyone was finished eating, Molly brought out a giant cake, topped with pink frosting and 18 candles, which she placed in front of Ginny. The group hollered gleefully as Ginny blew out her candles. Then, the cake was distributed and the guests began to eat. Quickly however, they were interrupted by Harry who lightly banged his fork against his glass: clink, clink, clink.

When all were silenced, Harry stood, all eyes focused on him.

"Hi everyone," Harry began, "I just wanted to make a little speech to celebrate Ginny's birthday. As you all know, last year we didn't really get to celebrate because the war had just ended. We were distracted then by our mourning."

Hermione saw nods around the table.

"We mourned over the loss of Fred," with this, Harry glanced first at Molly, then to George and Arthur.

"And Lupin and Tonks," Harry looked at Andromeda who had a sleeping Teddy in her arms.

"And Moody," Harry glanced at Kingsley before continuing. "And over the loss of all the others. And we still mourn. But those we mourn over fought for us to live in a world free from violence and hatred, they fought so we could be safe and happy. And so, we must move forwards."

Nods all around, again.

Harry then turned and looked toward Ginny who was sitting beside him.

"As everyone knows, Ginny and I have been dating for a little over a year, but, I've loved her longer than that."

Ginny blushed scarlet as Harry turned to face her and continued to speak:

"Ginny, I didn't know I could be as happy as you make me. You're smart and funny and brave and passionate. And you're the only girl I know who can beat me on a broomstick, and I love that about you."

Hermione heard a few people snicker, most notably Ron.

Harry continued, "I know I'll never be the man you deserve, but I'll try everyday if you let me."

Hermione thought she knew what Harry was up to and her eyes silently filled with tears in expectation.

Her thought was affirmed when Harry dropped to one knee beside Ginny.

"I know we're young. But I never knew my family, I lost my family. And now, I want to build another family, with you. So Ginny, will you marry me?"

There was a pause, silence filled the air as all eyes moved to Ginny's face. Ginny wiped a stray tear away from her smiling face before whispering, "Of course, yes," and then a little louder and a little more confidently, "yes!"

"Great," Harry replied,"That's really great."

Hermione laughed at his nonchalance. Harry stood and placed the ring on Ginny's finger, hugging his soon-to-be wife. He looked ecstatic.

"Oh, Congratulations!" Molly was the first to rise, the first to speak. She moved to hug Harry, kiss his cheeks, and hug her daughter. Arthur was next, hugging Ginny and shaking Harry's hand, clearly pleased.

Next was Ron, and then Hermione.

Embracing Harry, she whispered in his ear, "your speech was beautiful. Congratulations."

"Thanks," she heard Harry say as she pulled away. She looked into Harry's eyes, not remembering the last time she had seen him smile so wide.

She hugged Ginny next, the girl who, like Ron and Harry, had become like a sibling to her.

After all the congratulations were in order, the group resumed their seating positions in the circle beside the dinner table as Molly and Andromeda began to clean. Hermione sat beside Ron, sipping a glass of fire-whisky.

"Didn't know he was going to do that, did you?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I had no idea, though I thought he might one of these days."

"I think Mum about passed out," Ron said, "She's always loved Harry."

"Your Dad was almost crying," Hermione commented.

"Wait till the wedding day, I doubt they'll be a dry eye in the house," Ron said.

"What are you two girls gossiping about?" George asked, as he sat down on the arm of Hermione's chair, draping his elbow over the back.

"Harry and Ginny of course," Hermione replied.

"Right, right. The boy who lived – the chosen one – going to get married to his Hogwarts-sweetheart. The prophet will have a field day when they hear about this," George said.

"I didn't even think about that," Hermione's brown furrowed as she spoke. She didn't want Harry to be subject to more false reporting in the tabloids.

"If I know Ginny, she'll smack anyone who lets it leak," Ron replied, looking over at his sister who was chatting animatedly with Charlie and Bill.

The night drew on, the mood felt hopeful as the group continued to celebrate. For the first time in a long time, Hermione thought she might actually be looking forward to the future. Her gloomy days had the potential of becoming sunny. If only she could find her love, like Harry had Ginny.

Ron spoke from beside her, pulling her from her thoughts of love, "well, I better get on. I've got to go to Hogsmede." He drained the remainder of the fire whisky from his glass.

"Why do you need to go to Hogsmede?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, I, uh," Ron looked down, avoiding Hermione's gaze. "I've, uh, I've got a date, you see."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up as her mouth gaped open. _A date!? Since when did Ron Weasley go on dates? Keep calm, Hermione,_ she reminded herself as she adjusted her expression to emulate one of pleasure and excitement.

"That's great Ron, really. Who's it with?"

"Uh, I'm not sure if you know her, not from around here," Ron said, still avoiding Hermione's gaze.

"Right. Well, have fun." Hermione said.

"Yeah, right. Thanks Hermione. I'll see you on Monday then," Ron said, getting up from his chair and heading toward the kitchen, likely to say goodbye to his mum.

"Bye Ron," Hermione said to the air which now occupied the chair in which Ron had previously sat. She sighed.

She knew Ron would, of course, meet somebody else eventually. But, she had been hoping it would be _after_ she had met someone special. Her giddiness at the engagement wavered then, and Hermione realized just how exhausted she was. And lonely. Suddenly, surrounded by all her closest friends, Hermione felt completely alone.

Excusing herself from the party and saying goodbye to her friends, Hermione left soon after Ron, walking to the field and dissapparating back to her flat. Her brain felt slightly foggy from the travel and firewhiskey. It was all Hermione could do when she got home to go to bed and fall into a deep, dreamless slumber.

* * *

The Firewhiskey burned Draco's throat on the way down. Still, he took another gulp.

He was sitting in the Leaky Caldron on a busy Saturday night. The crowd allowed him to rest inconspicuously at the far end of the bar.

"Sorry I'm late, mate," a voice said from him as a hand clasped his shoulder.

Draco turned to look into the face of Theodore Nott. He greeted him enthusiastically: "Hey."

"What can I get you?" The barmaid asked from the opposite side of the counter.

"Firewhiskey," Nott replied, taking his seat beside Draco as the amber liquid appeared in a glass before him.

"So, how have you been, how's training?" Nott asked Draco.

"Fucking tough, my body kills," Draco replied, unconsciously straightening his back to stretch the muscles in his shoulders. "How's obliviating?"

"Bloody irritating. If one more ten-year-old accidentally blows up a car, or a mailbox, or their fucking grandmother, I'm going to lose my mind," Nott replied, taking a sip of his drink.

"I spent six hours at a primary school in Birmingham yesterday obliviating hundreds of kids who saw this little girl levitate a stick. A stick for fucks sake! It could have been the bloody wind," Nott rambled.

Draco didn't blame him for his annoyance. He couldn't imagine spending hours erasing the memories of children. Not only was it exhausting seep through hundreds of minds, the wizards had to be careful to leave enough memory intact so the children's parents didn't become suspicious.

"Sounds like a fucking mess," Draco replied. "I remember once when I was about four, I threw a tantrum outside a muggle sweet shop. Broke the glass in the window I was so frustrated. The wizard who came looked like he wanted to kill me. Had to spend hours tracking down everyone who may have seen it."

"Parent's need to keep their fucking kids inside if they can't control them," Nott said, draining his drink and gesturing to the barmaid that he'd like another.

"Cheers to that," Draco replied, holding up his empty glass.

There was a lull in the conversation as Draco too ordered another firewhiskey.

"Granger's training with me," Draco said eventually. He heard Nott nearly choke on his next sip.

"You're kidding right?"

"Nope."

"You let me ramble on about kids doing underage magic while you were sitting on that story? Tell me fucking everything," Nott encouraged.

Draco smirked.

He couldn't tell if Nott was so interested because he knew how much Draco hated Granger or because he had a smidgen of a crush on her back at Hogwarts. He assumed the latter was the case.

"Not much to tell, really. We mostly just duel. She's good. You should see her shield charm, fucking impenetrable. And if she was any more silent while dueling, I'd swear she was a mute," Draco elaborated.

"That's impressive," Nott agreed.

"She broke my nose last week," Draco admitted, rubbing his still sore face.

"No shit," Nott replied. "The unbeatable Draco Malfoy, beaten by Granger. Didn't think I'd live to hear the tale."

Draco feigned a sneer. He didn't bother reminding Nott that Granger beat him nearly all the time at school.

"She's still a know-it-all, quite irritating really," Draco continued.

"Sounds like someone's jealous," Nott pointed out.

"Not jealous. Just describing the circumstances as I see them," Draco replied.

"Right," Nott laughed into his glass as he took another sip. It wasn't rare for him and Draco to meet in a bar like this one, have a few too many fire whiskeys, and almost splinch themselves apparating home. Draco liked the company, got him out of his head.

"Sod off," Draco replied, slightly smiling. He _was_ kind of jealous of Granger. And if he was being honest with himself, he knew he always had been.

"Malfoy," Nott said suddenly serious, deepening the intensity of the conversation which had previously been quite light.

Draco felt alarmed. He was sure Nott was going to tell him something horrible, such was the knowledge of those still in contact with Death Eaters.

"That girl over there…" Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Leave it to Nott to take girls as seriously as anything.

"No, don't look…" Nott continued as Draco rolled his eyes. "She's been watching you since I got here. Seems like she likes what she sees."

Draco ran his hand through his hair, "Who wouldn't?"

"Git," Not replied, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Go talk to her."

"No, she'll come to me, just wait. I'm going to have a smoke. Watch, when I get back, she'll be all over me."

"Smoking is disgusting you know. Filthy muggle habit," Nott commented.

"Yep," Draco retorted, feeling around his pocket for his pack. He had started smoking in France, mostly for something to do. A habit he picked up from the muggle farmer who lived nearby, a man who Draco had the occasional conversation with when out for his late night walks. His father hated it which made Draco smoke even more.

"I'll be right back. Order me a drink while I'm gone."

As he stood from his bar stool, Draco turned round, taking the opportunity to look at the girls who sat in the booth behind him. There were two. One had long wavy dark blonde hair, she sat facing away from Draco. The other made eye contact to him and smiled lightly as Draco smirked. She was cute. She had shoulder-length dark brown hair which framed her face, dark brown eyes and full lips. Draco winked and then walked toward the door.

Outside in Diagon Ally, Draco stood in the doorframe of a nearby shop and lit his cigarette with his wand. He thought for a moment. It hadn't been that long since Draco had picked up a girl in a bar. About a month. Nothing ever came of his one-night stands, and Draco liked it that way. He wasn't looking for a relationship, just a fuck.

"You have an extra one?" A voice said to him through the darkness. Draco looked up, running his hand through his hair and found himself staring at the oval, dark brown eyes he had just seen inside the bar.

"Sure," Draco reached his hand in his pocket, fishing out a cigarette and handing it to the girl. She was small, about a head shorter than him. She wore dark grey jeans and black boots, a white blouse. He could see the outline of her black bra underneath. Cool.

"Name's Ally, by the way, what's yours?" She asked after lighting her cigarette with her wand. She extended her hand.

"Malfoy," Draco said, shaking it. He made it a point to say his last time to the girls he wanted to sleep with. This was for two reasons. Firstly, he knew his reputation preceded him and he wanted to give the girls a chance to back out when they knew who he really was. Secondly, it allowed him to avoid saying his first name, which pretty much nobody but his parents called him. He wasn't about to give it to a stranger.

"Malfoy, huh? As in _the_ Malfoys?" Ally asked, obviously she had heard of his family.

"The very ones," He replied. _Unfortunately,_ he added in his head.

"Right," Ally paused. Draco could tell by the way she studied his face that she was trying to decide if talking to him was a good idea or not.

"What brings you to the bar tonight?" She asked. Clearly she had decided it was a fine idea.

"Not much. Just out for a drink with a mate. It's my day off," Draco explained.

"Off from what?"

"Auror, I'm training."

"Cool. I heard it's hard. My brother tried a few years ago, didn't get passed two months," Ally explained.

"Yeah, bloody nightmare," Draco responded. "I'm a year in." A lie. No need to tell the truth to someone you don't intend to get to know.

"Cool," Ally repeated. "I just started working in the Magical Artifacts department."

"Oh yeah? Interesting work," Draco said. _Fuck, I'm bad at conversation._

"Listen, you want to get out of here, go back to my place and have a drink?" Draco asked.

"Um, I just have to say goodbye to my friend. But yeah, yeah I can do that," Ally responded. She looked a little weary at Draco's tactlessness. Honestly, he didn't like to beat around the bush. If this was going to happen, it was going to happen quickly and on his terms.

"Me too. I'll meet you back here in ten minutes," Draco replied. He let his cigarette fall from his fingers onto the ground and stomped it out with his toe. Then, he walked back into the Leaky Caldron, over to where Nott was sitting.

"Told you," he said, sitting down. He saw Ally walk back in, look at him, and then proceed to the booth where her friend was now sitting alone. He smirked to himself.

"What?" Nott asked, looking over Draco's shoulder to where the girl had returned.

"I've got to go. Back to my place," Draco said.

"What? Already? I just got here," Nott protested.

"No offence, mate, but I'd rather spend my night with her than you," Draco said. He picked up his glass and drowned it in one sip, letting it drop to the table with a bang.

"You already talked to her?!" Nott said, he looked over at the girl again. She was taking out a few sickles from her money pouch and putting them on the table, clearly preparing to leave.

"Yep. She's coming back to my place," Draco said.

"Fuck," Nott said. Draco could tell he was impressed. Really, Draco had realized that all it took sometimes was being extremely honest about your intentions.

"You should go talk to her friend," Draco suggested. He reached into his money pouch, pulled out a knut and handed it to Nott. "Buy her a drink, it's on me," he said.

"Right," Nott said, taking the money and putting it in his pocket.

Draco stood, clasped Nott on the shoulder and said, "see ya, mate," before walking back outside to the spot he had previously been standing with Ally.

A few moments later, she too reappeared.

"You ready?" He asked her.

"Yep," She replied.

Draco walked over to her and placed his hand on the small of her back. He moved it along to the side, gripping her waist lightly.

"Let's go," he said as he dissaparated them back to his flat. They arrived on the landing just outside. Draco retreated his arm and got out his wand. He whispered a few unlocking charms and opened the door.

"Make yourself at home. I'll get a drink," Draco said, slipping of his trainers at the door.

He walked to the kitchen, got two glasses and poured a bit of amber liquid into both. More firewhiskey. When he got back to the sitting room, Ally was on the couch, her legs crossed beneath her. His cat Sappho sat on the table directly in front of Ally, watching her silently. Draco smirked. The cat always sized up every girl who came into his flat. Apparently she never quite approved, always preferring to keep her distance. This time was no exception. When Draco went to sit down beside Ally, the cat looked at him, blinked once, and then turned away, as if to say, "I can't even look at you." She then hopped off her perch on the table and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Sorry about her. She doesn't like new people," Draco said to Ally, handing her a drink.

"Right. That was kind of creepy," Ally said. "And thanks," she added, gesturing to the drink now in her hands.

As the two sat on the couch, talked, and enjoyed another drink or two, Draco inched his way closer to her. Eventually, he was sitting with his hand around her shoulder, his body pressed against her side.

"Can I kiss you?" Draco said suddenly, cutting Ally off from whatever story she had been telling. Draco hadn't been listening, preoccupied with watching those pink, plump lips.

"Um.. Yeah. Yeah." Ally said. Draco smirked.

He reached up and cradled her cheek with his hand, turning her face so it was facing him, her lips mere inches from his. He looked into her eyes and then gently pulled her face toward him, his lips softly brushing hers. She responded immediately, her lips pressing harder into his, moving as his moved. He opened his mouth, letting her tongue slip inside. Before he pulled away, he bit softly on her bottom lip, savoring the taste.

"Come," he said as he stood. He grabbed her hand, pulling her up from the sofa. Together they walked toward his bedroom.

Once inside, Draco closed the door, trapping out Sappho. He pressed Ally's body up against the wall with his own, dropping his face to be level with hers. He kissed her again, deeper this time, more frantic. Her hands slipped up above his shoulders, her fingers running through his hair, as his hands fell to her waist. He gently eased her off the wall.

He turned them and started walking toward the bed, her steps guided by his until her legs bumped against the mattress. She fell onto the bed, her back pressing against his duvet. Draco paused. He looked her up and down. _Far too many clothes,_ he thought. She took the opportunity to scoot upwards, so that her entire body was on the bed, her shoulders and head resting on the fluffy pillow at its head.

Draco lunged, falling onto the bed on top of her, his knees catching him from crushing her. Extending one leg between hers, he rested his body against her small frame, one of his hands finding her waist while his mouth found hers. They kissed again, her hands running down his back. She moaned when Draco grinded his thigh between her legs.

His hand slipped under her shirt, pulling the fabric up. He relished the feel of soft smooth skin beneath his fingertips. His lips travelled down her neck toward her collar bone. He could feel her hands underneath his shirt as well, nails lightly scaling his skin. Again, he ground his hips into hers. She moaned.

He readjusted himself, sitting up on his knees and pulling his shirt off his body. He looked down to see her eyes scaling his torso. He knew his body was impressive, another thing he had worked on while in France.

Then, her eyes widened. She had caught sight of the Dark Mark. Most people had never seen one in person. It was harsh and ugly against his fair skin. Her hand reached up, her fingers out stretched.

"Don't touch it," Draco whispered. She nodded slightly.

Then Draco's hands went once against to her waist, pulling her shirt off of her as well. He resumed his previous position, his hands now wondering about her body. They kissed again for a while, before Draco got impatient.

He knelt then, his thighs straddling her little body. She took the opportunity to reach up and remove her bra. He smirked.

As he leaned down and kissed first her lips, and then her neck, and then her breasts, his hands worked to undue her pants. The button popped open, and Draco climbed off the bed. He pulled her pants over her knees and off her feet, pulling them inside out.

Then, he undid his own belt, his buttons, and slipped out of his pants as well. He breathed a sigh of relief as his already enlarged cock became less confined.

He knelt back on the bed, climbing between her legs, spreading them as he went. His hands rubbed her thighs, travelling up toward her panties. He hooked his fingers around the red lace fabric.

"Can I?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Uh huh," She replied.

With that, Draco pulled off her underwear, revealing her completely.

Draco looked at her appreciatively.

He bent down then, and began kissing a trail of kisses up her thighs, biting lightly every so often. He felt her start to squirm. And then he dove in, tongue first. One short lick. Wet. Draco savoured the taste. He could honestly say he genuinely loved it. He licked again, spreading the lips with his mouth, one more long stroke, and then his tongue found the spot he'd been searching for. Circles. His tongue began drawing circles around her.

Draco could hear her breath deepening. His hands wandered up her thighs, toward her hips. He placed one on the soft expanse of skin just below her belly button. He could feel her muscles tensing. The other hand steadied her hips, clutching firmly around the bone.

Still, his assault continued, his tongue becoming sore as its pace quickened. She was moaning now. He slowed for a moment, longer stokes, tasting her fully. He moaned in appreciation. He looked up at her, her flat stomach, the mounds of her breasts, nipples hard, her face, mouth open, eyes closed. It was a face of ecstasy.

He continued licking, slowly moving his hand from her hip down her thigh. He picked up her legs, indicating for her to bend them. She complied. He snuck his hand around, feeling her wetness with his finger tips, his mouth continuing it's assault. He put a finger in her entrance, craning it around to feel the ribs which marked the spot he knew he had to target. He added a second finger.

Her breath came even quicker now, and once again, Draco picked up his pace, his tongue moving rapidly in rhythm with his fingers. She moaned louder, nearly panting. Draco's hand felt the muscles in her stomach begin to clench in earnest, his fingers pulled in by her tightening. Four more strokes, and he felt a rush of liquid and she visibly relaxed. He slowly took his fingers out, raised his head. She was looking down at him, a smile on her lips. He climbed up her body again, kissing her fully on the mouth.

As he held his weight above her small frame, her hands rubbed down his sides, finding his waistband and pulling at it. He paused, easing himself out of his briefs. He was fully erect, hardening more as her hand scaled down his length. She brought her hand to her mouth, spit on it, and then continued to rub his cock, coating it in her lubricant. _Hot,_ Draco thought.

Once he felt fully prepared, he kneeled directly in front of her, pulling her legs above his, nearly to his shoulders. He dipped his fingers in once again to see if she was wet enough, and then guided his cock to her entrance, thrusting inwards.

Draco moaned.

* * *

Hermione awoke on Sunday morning to a tapping at her window. It was early, the sun still low in the brightening sky. Dazed, she got up from the bed and walked toward the sound. There was an owl perched outside, tapping incessantly on the glass with its beak. _Odd,_ Hermione thought. It was Sunday after all, and they Prophet wasn't delivered on Sundays.

She opened the window and the bird hopped in, chirping loudly. It snapped at her finger as she tried to brush it's cheek. Clearly, it was annoyed. Hermione wondered vaguely how long the creature had been attempting to wake her. She took the parchment from it's leg and without a moment's pause, the owl flew back out into the morning light.

Hermione unrolled the parchment, her eyes scanning quickly.

" _Miss. Hermione Granger,_

 _Your presence is required this morning at 8am. This is an urgent Auror meeting. Please be prompt._

 _Yours,_

 _Jeffrey Quincy,_

 _Assistant to Gawain Robards_

 _Auror Office, Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

 _Ministry of Magic_

 _Whitehall, London, England_

"Shit," Hermione whispered.

She glanced at the muggle clock which sat on the table beside her bed. It was already 7:20, not much time to get ready and eat. Plus, Hermione could feel a slight headache from the firewhiskey consumed the night before.

She hopped in the shower quickly before shoving a piece of toast in her mouth. She left her flat in a hurry, exiting through the back which lead to a dingy ally. Here, she could dissaparate without anyone seeing her.

When she arrived at the Auror Office, Hermione went straight to the dining hall, the only room in the department which could hold all the Aurors. She looked around, most had already arrived, Harry a notable exception. She saw Alex sitting at a table, his head resting on the surface. She saw Ron sitting up right, eyes closed, apparently snoozing. And she saw Malfoy drinking a cup of coffee, he looked like death.


	4. The Mission

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay!

What I thought was going to be the next chapter or two, will probably be the next five or six. I had to redo most of what I'd written. I've also been writing midterm exams the past few days so I couldn't dedicate as much time to writing this as I would have liked.

In this chapter, Hermione and Draco receive their first mission. While they aren't working directly together, the mission will result in a lot of close contact between the pair. It's rather complex (I had to make a spread sheet to keep everything in order), but hopefully the parts which matter are sufficiently explained. Draco is working with Harry and Hermione with Ron. Both of them are responsible for tracking Death Eaters and interviewing one Death Eater. Draco and Harry are interviewing Goyle Sr., Hermione and Ron are interviewing Travers.

All of the Death Eaters mentioned were created by JKR (as well as the world they live within), most of the Aurors were also created by her, but I added a few of my own.

Thanks to everyone for reading! I hope I don't disappoint. Stay with me, we're building up to intimacy slowly. It takes time, but will be well worth it, I hope.

Thanks again for following, favouriting and reviewing!

* * *

Chapter 3: Friends and Family

When she arrived at the Auror Office, Hermione went straight to the dining hall, the only room in the department which could hold all the Aurors. She looked around, most had already arrived, Harry a notable exception. She saw Alex sitting at a table, his head resting on the surface. She saw Ron sitting up right, eyes closed, apparently snoozing. And she saw Malfoy drinking a cup of coffee, he looked like death.

* * *

Chapter 4: The Mission

Draco felt like death. He rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time, hoping that enough pressure on his sockets might alleviate his headache

 _Why are these lights so bright?_ He thought, w _ho the fuck needs lights this bright to see their food?_ He blinked rapidly a few times and then took another sip of his third cup of coffee. Granger had just walked in and sat next to Weasley. She too looked tired. Hell, everyone looked tired.

It had been an early morning. Draco awoke at 6am having only slept for a few hours. He heard his cat meowing somewhere in the flat. Extracting himself from the limbs of the girl he had brought home the night before, he left his bedroom to see what Sappho's fuss was about.

He walked into the dining room, following her noise, to see her sitting on the window ledge, looking outside.

"Sappho, we've talked about this. You can't go outside here, it's too dangerous," He said, petting the cat on the head. She meowed again, still peering outside.

It was then that Draco noticed the owl. He opened the window, allowing creature to enter. Sappho meowed again, turning on the spot, and jumping to the ground, clearly unimpressed by the invasion.

Draco took the parchment from the owl's leg, and then closed the window once it had flown away.

"You were just trying to tell me I had a message, eh?" He said to Sappho. "That's a good girl," he bent down to rub the cats head as she wound her way around his legs.

Draco read:

" _Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

 _Your presence is required this morning at 8am. This is an urgent Auror meeting. Please be prompt._

 _Yours,_

 _Jeffrey Quincy,_

 _Assistant to Gawain Robards_

 _Auror Office, Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

 _Ministry of Magic_

 _Whitehall, London, England"_

"Fuck," Draco said under his breath. He was supposed to have Sunday off.

He walked back into the bedroom, to where Ally was sleeping soundly in his bed.

"Hey," he said softly, rubbing her shoulder lightly.

"Ally, wake up," he said again.

"Mmm," She moved slightly, clearly a slow riser, "Malfoy?"

"Yeah, you've got to leave," Draco said, a little louder now.

"What? What do you mean?" She asked, sitting up slightly in the bed, covering her still naked body with his sheet.

"I have to go to work. Urgent business. You have to leave," Draco said again.

"Oh," Ally replied, sitting up fully, "Okay then, just give a sec," She asked.

Draco complied, leaving the bedroom to make himself a cup of coffee.

A few minutes later, Ally reappeared fully clothed.

"So, I guess I'll be going then," She said, standing a few feet away from Draco in his kitchen.

"Yeah, sorry about this. I was supposed to have the day off," Draco explained as he walked her to the entrance. "You can dissaparate on the landing," he told her, opening the door for her exit.

"Can I see you again?" She asked, pausing to look at Draco before disappearing, her lips pouted slightly.

"Um…" Draco hated this part. "Look, last night was great. But I'm just not really seeing anyone right now. Sorry."

As much as Draco hated the look of disappointment on her face, he hated the idea of having a steady girl in his life more.

"Okay. Well bye, then," Ally said, begrudgingly. At least she didn't shout at him, Draco hated the ones who shouted at him.

After Ally dissapeared, Draco walked back into the kitchen where Sappho sat perched on the kitchen counter. Her blues eyes judged him.

"Don't look at me like that. A man has needs, Sappho," he said.

"You want breakfast?" He asked the cat. She jumped down to where her bowl sat empty, pacing the floor in front of it, looking up at Draco. He charmed the spoon to scoop some kibble into her bowl.

"I've got to go into work early today," He explained to her, "I don't know when I'll be home. So don't eat all of that now."

Sappho looked up at him from her munching as if to say she understood.

After a shower, some breakfast and another cup of coffee, Draco apparated to the Ministry.

He found his fellow Aurors sitting in the dining hall, arranged in a circle facing Robards, who stood pacing.

Draco made himself a cup of coffee before taking a seat beside Morris. Weasley and Granger sat in front of him, to his right. All the Aurors were present, except Potter. It was now five after eight. When Potter finally arrived a few minutes later, sitting himself beside Granger, the meeting began.

"Right. Now that everyone is present," Robards glared at Potter as he spoke.

Draco too looked toward Potter who seemed undisturbed by the scolding, sitting with a blissful, silly grin on his face, his eyes glazed over. _Well somebody got laid last night,_ Draco thought.

"We'll begin," Robards continued, "Granger, who are the most wanted Death Eaters still on the loose?"

"Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange," Granger answered without hesitation.

'Good," Robards complimented. Draco had gotten used to Robards' staccato style of speaking: a short sentence, followed by a question, followed by the word "good." But this morning, the halting nature of his speech seemed to worsen Draco's headache.

"Malfoy, who are they?" Robards asked. Draco rubbed his face again, it was too early for a pop-quiz.

 _My uncles,_ Draco thought, but he knew enough not to provide that answer. While all of the Aurors knew Draco was a former Death Eater, he tried his best to keep from reminding them. Tried his best to keep from reminding himself.

"Rodolphus was Bellatrix's husband, right hand to the Da-" Draco caught himself in time, amending his answer, "Voldemort's right hand. The Lestrange Brothers are sons of Lestrange Sr., one of Voldemort's first followers, fought in the first war."

"Good," Robards said to Draco before turning to Morris, "Morris, where are they?"

"Rumor has it they've been hiding in South America since the end of the war," Alex said.

"Good. Weasley, tell us what you heard last night," Robards commanded.

"Well, I was in Hogsmeade, right? Just left The Three Broomsticks. I see this bloke walking down the street, looked kind of shady. When I got closer, I saw he looked like one of the Death Eaters on our wanted posters, only his hair's the wrong colour. Bad disguise, really. I followed him into an alley where he met up with Jugson. I'm pretty sure it was Selwyn. They were talking about a meeting, didn't say exactly when it was going to be, but I gathered it would happen around the end of the month. They specifically mentioned Rodolphus and Rabastan by name, said they needed to talk through "the plans". I flooed straight here when Selwyn went inside," Ron explained.

Draco was impressed, turned out the weasel knew how to do some solid detective work. Before Robards had a chance to say "good," one of the older Aurors, Proudfoot, spoke up from across the room.

Draco hadn't really had the chance to meet Proudfoot before, a man who, apparently, did most of his work in the field. From the size of the bags under his eyes, Draco gathered Proudfoot hadn't slept in years.

"Savage and I were tracking Jugson last night. We lost him in Hogsmeade when he threw on an invisibility cloak. We found him again about an hour later. He met up with Rowle. They were talking about finding a place for their "guests" to say while they were London. I gather they were talking about the Lestranges," Proudfoot explained.

"Good, good," Robards commended.

"Weasley," Robards turned once again to where Weasley sat, this time, the look on his face not only serious, but stern, "What's the number one rule we follow in this office?"

Draco could see Weasley's ears turn slightly pink before he answered: "Never leave your partner."

"Good," Robards said and then repeated, "never leave your partner. Why do we have that rule?"

"Because it's dangerous to do field work alone," Weasley replied.

"Good, and what did you do last night?"

Weasley looked down, "Tracked a Death Eater alone."

"Good. I would take you off duty Weasley for violating the rule if we could spare a body. As it stands, I expect you not to go looking for Death Eaters again. Got it?"

Weasley nodded.

Robards turned his attention now to the entire group.

"As you know, we've been tracking Jugson and Rowle for six months. We hoped they would lead us to more Death Eaters. Our work has paid off. If we're going to capture Rodolphus and Rabastan, we need to be at that meeting. We need to be prepared. This will take the entire team. Trainees, this if your first mission, don't fuck up."

Draco gulped but listened intently as Robards continued.

"You will be divided into pairs. We will track Selwyn, Rowle, and Jugson in two day shifts. I want to know where they go, who they talk to, and what they say. When you're not tracking, you will go to Azkaban. Each pair will be assigned one Death Eater to interview. Review their files. Many of them have contact with the outside world. I want to know everything they know about this plan. I expect a report. Got it?"

Draco saw everyone in the room nod their heads.

"You are," Robards glared at Weasley when he continued, "Under no circumstances, to leave your partner. Unless your life is in immediate danger. If that is the case, you report immediately to the Auror office, get backup, and we go back for your partner. Is that understood?"

Nods. A few people added a "Yes, Sir," for good measure.

Robards flicked his wand before resuming his speech, "A schedule has been posted on the bulletin board. Learn it. Failing to report for duty will result in probation. Clear?"

Nods.

"You will have two days of scheduled rest. Use them wisely, I don't know when you'll get another break," Robards ran his hand through his hair, pausing, it seemed to Draco, to collect his thoughts.

"When you're interviewing, you may tell your subject that any information provided which results in the capture of Rabastan and Rodolphus will mean a commutation of their sentence from life to 20 years. I want answers. Got it?"

Nods.

"The pairings and corresponding Death Eater interviewees are as follows:

Boot and Goldstein – Avery Jr.

Dawlish and Williamson – Rookwood

Fredericton and Zhang – Mulciber

Morris and Stebbins – Crabbe Sr.

Weasley and Granger – Travers

Potter and Malfoy – Goyle Sr.

…

Draco tuned out the rest of the speech, his mind swirling with the idea of the working with Potter. His eyes though, seemingly of their own volition, wandered over to where Granger was sitting. To Draco, it seemed she looked sad, her gaze focused far away. He couldn't for the life of him imagine why. He bit into his finger nail. He realized then that he had grown accustomed to her presence in his life over the past month. While she was still an insufferable know-it-all, she was at least somewhat courteous. Potter on the other hand, Draco had barely spoken to. He sighed, his fate was sealed, and there was no point in dwelling on what-ifs now.

* * *

Hermione sighed to herself. It wasn't that she didn't want to work with Ron, or that she didn't like Ron, who was, after all, one of her best friends. It was just that since they had broken up nearly eight months before, they had rarely spent time alone together. Now, she would be forced to be with him practically 24/7 for the foreseeable future.

Sensing eyes on her face, Hermione turned to her left to make direct eye contact with Malfoy. She quickly turned away, blushing. She thought vaguely of what it would have been like to work with the former Death Eater. As much as she hated to admit it, he was an extremely talented wizard. And his behaviour was at least predictable, something which she could not say of Ron's.

When the meeting ended, Ron turned to her quickly, "Right. So what do we do?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to Ron to always expect her to have a plan. Truthfully, she wasn't exactly sure what their next move should be.

"I think we should check the schedule," Hermione replied.

Together the two new partners walked over the bulletin board beside the door which lead from the dining hall into the Auror's main office space. A few other Aurors stood surrounding the newly posted schedule as well.

Hermione read it quickly: "Looks like we're tracking Selwyn first, for two days, and then Azkaban for two, and then tacking Rowle, four more days in Azkaban, and then Jugson. Then we have two days off, and the last two days on the schedule we're back in Azkaban."

The look on Ron's face made it seem as though he hadn't understood a word.

"So we need to find Selwyn," Ron said at last.

"Seems that way. I think we should start where you saw him last. You said it was in an alleyway in Hogsmeade, so that's where we should go. If he used an unlocking charm to get in that door, it's pretty likely that he's living there. Hopefully we can catch him leaving," Hermione said, devising a plan as she talked.

"Brilliant," Ron replied. "We need to get some things. I think we should bring an invisibility cloak, just in case."

"Good idea," Hermione replied, and then added, "and an extendable ear."

"Right," Ron agreed. "I'll get the cloak and ear, and I'll meet you in the Lobby in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes. Hermione had fifteen minutes to prepare for her very first mission as an Auror. First things first, she went to the washroom. Next, she went back to the dining hall to make a thermos of coffee for her and Ron. She added the thermos to her extended bag, with a sweater and few books she thought might be helpful.

When she felt as ready as she could, Hermione walked over the elevator where Dawlish and Williamson, two of the more experienced Aurors were already waiting.

"Granger," Dawlish said, "don't be nervous. You'll do well. Robards wouldn't have trusted you with a mission if he didn't think you could succeed."

The reassuring words from the man old enough to be her father did little to diminish Hermione's butterflies. Despite her attempt to smile, it seemed Williamson saw through her façade.

"Seriously though. I splinched myself on the first day of my first mission. Ended up spending the rest of the assignment in St. Mungos recuperating. Trust me, you can't possibly fuck up as much as I did. And I'm still here," Williams said.

Hermione smiled more genuinely this time. It seemed this first mission, although certainly a chance to prove her worth, was not a make or break moment. When the elevator arrived, Hermione, Dawlish and Williamson entered, and ascended the two floors to the lobby.

Leaving the elevator, Hermione turned and waved goodbye to her fellow Aurors who in turn wished her luck. She saw Ron standing opposite her near the new statue.

"Are you ready to go?" She asked, approaching him.

"Yep. Got the cloak and ear right here," Ron said, patting the pouch on his side. Hermione smiled. As a birthday gift the year before, Hermione had made Ron is very own extendable pouch. It filled her with warmth knowing he relied on it so heavily.

"We should apparate to Hogsmeade," Hermione suggested.

The two walked out to the court yard. A small square of concrete indicated the place where the appiration barrier had been lifted. It was only here that Wizards and Witches could leave from and arrive at the Ministry. The square was protected by a security guard who checked the wands of any wizard coming in.

Ron and Hermione arrived just in time to see the swirling figures of Dawlish and Williamson disappear from sight.

Climbing onto the raised platform, Hermione braced herself as Ron grabbed her arm. Her body began turning through time and space.

* * *

Draco's stomach turned, he felt vaguely like he was going to vomit.

He and Potter had both remained seated separately as their fellow Aurors moved around them. By now, they were the only two left in the dining hall.

When Potter stood, an image flashed through Draco's mind of Potter's fist hitting him square the jaw, adding injury to his already broken nose. His clenched his fists, prepared.

He was surprised however when Potter approached him and merely extended his hand.

"Malfoy," he said.

"Potter," Draco replied, shaking his hand, his cool blue eyes meeting Potters shining green ones. An unspoken truce.

"We should check the schedule," Potter suggested. Together, he and Draco walked to the bulletin board. His eyes scanned: they were to spend the first four days in Azkaban, then two days tracking Jugson, followed by another two in Azkaban. Then Rowle, two days off, and then Selwyn. When he'd finished reading, Draco turned to Potter.

"We should start with the files," he said, "Learn what we can about Goyle."

"Right," Potter agreed.

Two hours later, Draco and Potter were seated on a picnic table outside in the Ministry courtyard. It was a bright sunny day and the little breeze which was present was blocked by the building on all four sides. They had started the morning at Potter's desk but quickly realized there simply wasn't enough space for them to work effectively. And Draco wanted a cigarette. Outside Draco read Goyle Sr.'s file while Potter read Goyle, Jr.'s.

"Malfoy?" Potter asked suddenly, breaking the nearly hour long silence.

"Mm?" Draco replied, not bothering the raise his eyes from the report in front of him. He had been reading trial manuscripts.

"Malfoy," Potter said, more urgently this time. Draco lowered the quill he had been using to take notes and looked up to Potter who sat across from him.

"What do you know about Goyle's relationship with his father?" Potter asked.

Draco thought about it. He'd known the Goyles since before he could walk. Both Goyle Sr. and Lucius had been Death Eaters during the first war. While he wouldn't say the two had been close, their sons had been. Draco had learned a fair amount about Goyle while rooming together at Hogwarts.

"I don't think it's great. But, with pureblood families, a lot of pressure is put on the heir, the one who will carry the blood and the name to the next generation. They weren't close. But that's typical of pureblood families," Draco explained.

It was much the same with his father. While Lucius and Draco never quite got along, there was an unspoken bond between them. He was the bearer of the Malfoy name, and to Lucius, this meant he was special.

"So Goyle would protect his son, if he had to?" Potter suggested.

"I think so," Draco responded, and then, because his curiosity had been peaked, he asked, "Why?"

"Well, Goyle's on probation. Except he violated that probation last month when he was seen talking to Nott. He isn't supposed to have contact with any Death Eater affiliates. He has a trial next week," Potter explained, looking at his notes as he did.

"So?" Draco asked.

"I think we can use this against Goyle Sr. Tell him his son is up for the kiss, see if that makes him spill," Potter said.

Draco thought for a moment, biting into his nail again.

"I hate to say it Potter, but I think that might be a good plan," Draco said, and then added, "Assuming Goyle actually gives a shit about his son."

"We need to go to Azkaban and ask him," Potter said, already closing the file in front of him and rising.

"Hold on, Potter," Draco replied, astounded by Potter's reluctance to actually think through a plan.

Draco reached into his pocket for his cigarettes, extracted one from the pack, and lit it with his wand. Potter, thank goodness, said nothing.

"He'll know we're lying. I know Goyle was about as smart as a pile of bricks at Hogwarts, but his father's not. You can't rank so highly in the Death Eaters without at least some intelligence," Draco explained.

"So we need to convince him," Potter said, "we need to go to Azkaban."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. But, he had some issues with that idea, "Listen Potter. My family is the most hated wizarding family in the world right now. I can't just stroll into Azkaban and ask Goyle to tell us his secrets. He won't trust me. And you can't go to Azkaban alone. Remember, partners and all."

"Right," Potter looked a little defeated. Draco couldn't help but feel guilty. It was, after all, his fault, that they wouldn't be able to just waltz right into Azkaban and get the answers they needed.

"We need a plan. Some way we can both go to Azkaban, but only get you to talk to Goyle," Draco said.

Potter huffed, reopening his file. Draco too began to read again, hoping a clue lay somewhere in the papers in front of him.

* * *

Hermione's feet hit solid ground. She looked around quickly, surveying her surroundings. There were trees on all three sides around her, a forest. The ground beneath her feet was dirt. She turned, off in the distance behind a tall wire fence was a small house. _The Shrieking Shack,_ Hermione thought. She turned around again to see Ron standing a few feet behind her.

"Sorry. I didn't want anyone to see us," Ron explained, gesturing around himself to the abandoned forest.

"Good idea," Hermione said, "We can walk to Hogsmeade from here."

The two set off down the trail in the woods on which they had walked a dozen times before. Although Hermione tried to stay focused on the task in front of her, her mind kept wandering to the night before.

"How was your date?" She asked skeptically.

Ron looked over to her, his eyes appearing to search her face. She tried to present a smile.

"Good. I guess. Ended quickly though, once I saw Selwyn. Couldn't bloody well take a girl on a date to track a Death Eater," Ron exclaimed.

"Right," Hermione replied, looking down. She couldn't help but feel slightly relieved.

"I can't believe Harry was late this morning," Ron said a moment later.

"Well, I guess he and Ginny had a good night," Hermione giggled.

"Oh yeah. Did you see his face this morning? Looked like he was going to about burst from happiness."

"Yeah. I'm happy for him," Hermione said.

"Me too. Do you reckon I get to be the best man?" Ron asked.

"Probably. Although maybe Hagrid," Hermione said. Both laughed at the image conjured in their heads of the half-giant standing beside their best friend as he got married, dressed in a fur tuxedo.

As the two walked they continued to chat idly about the wedding, and before long, they could see the Three Broomsticks across the path. They had entered Hogsmeade.

"I think we should put on the invisibility cloak," Ron suggested to Hermione, "if we see Selwyn, we're going to have to follow him."

"Right," Hermione agreed. This would be odd. The two had been under Harry's invisibility cloak together before, but not since they'd had sex. Hermione felt a little awkward as she crouched down close to Ron so they would both fit.

"Okay. So, the last time I saw Selwyn, he was in the alleyway between the Potions shop and the Library. Across from the Hog's Head," Ron whispered.

"Where was the door he went in?" Hermione asked.

"In the Potions Shop. Looked like it went down to the cellar."

"Okay, so that's where we need to wait," Hermione said.

The two walked small steps along the streets of Hogsmede, darting out of the way of locals. Before long, they'd arrived in front of the Potions shop. They entered the alleyway and looked around.

It was a narrow space, about seven feet wide. Two high brick walls ran parallel to each other on either side of them. At one end, the alley was blocked off with a tall wooden fence, the other end opened to the streets. Along the right hand wall were a series of crates stacked atop one another, no doubt crates which has previously held library books. On the other side, the wall was blank save one large metal door - green, with paint cracking off, revealing rust underneath.

"That's it," Ron said, pointing toward the door.

"We can sit over there," Hermione suggested, turning to face the crates behind them.

Quickly and carefully, Hermione and Ron worked together to climb two levels of crates just opposite the door. They struggled, their movements restricted by the cloak which bound them together. When they were comfortably seated side by side, their legs dangling beneath them, their backs up against another row of crates behind them, Hermione sighed.

"You okay?" Ron asked.

"Yep," Hermione replied. She reached into her bag, retrieving her thermos and two small cups she had packed away. Handing one of the cups to Ron and balancing the other on the crate at her side, she opened the thermos and poured each of them a small mug of coffee.

Ron clutched it with both hands, bringing it to his nose to smell, before saying thanks. Putting the thermos away, Hermione clutched her cup as well, savouring the taste of the still-warm coffee.

"Now, we wait," She said, relaxing against the crates behind her.

* * *

"Let me get this straight, you still see Goyle?" Potter asked, a look of astonishment on his face.

"Look Potter, it's not like we're best mates, but yeah, I get a drink with him every now and then," Draco replied.

"And you've been keeping this from me because?" Potter said, now he looked angry.

"I didn't mean to. Honestly, Potter. The last time I saw him was more than two months ago," Draco replied. _Before I started training,_ he added in his head.

"The point is, I can get into contact with him if I need to," Draco said, taking a drag of his cigarette. It had been four hours since Draco and Potter had first began devising their plan and it seemed at every step there was a new problem.

They'd solved the first, the problem of Draco appearing at Azkaban with Potter and potentially sabotaging their opportunity to get any information from Goyle. Malfoy would simply wear an invisibility cloak while Potter interviewed. If he wanted to add anything, he would signal Potter and they would leave the room to discuss the issue. Now the problem was how to convince Goyle Sr. that his son was in mortal danger.

An hour earlier, Potter had suggested a polyjuice potion. At first, they'd talked about Malfoy taking a potion to appear to be Kingsley. If Goyle wouldn't believe Potter, then he would believe the Minister of Magic. But, as Draco had pointed out, they were pretty sure impersonating the Minister was illegal.

Next, they had thought of merely impersonating another Death Eater, someone with some more authority. The problem with that plan was convincing another Auror to give up their DNA. Potter was sure Weasley would be willing, but Draco had insisted a more esteemed Auror was necessary.

"What if you impersonated Goyle Jr., use his own son against him," Potter suggested.

Draco thought about it. He certainly knew Goyle well enough to reasonably impersonate his character.

"That could work," Draco agreed, "but the guards aren't going to let an imprisoned Death Eater talk to his son."

"The guards don't have to know he'll be there. We have an invisibility cloak, remember?"

 _Sneaky,_ Draco thought. _Potter should have been a slytherin with cunning like that._

"Right. So we can go to Azkaban, you tell the guards you're interviewing Goyle, I'll be Goyle Jr. in disguise, hidden beneath the cloak. When we get into the interview room, I reveal myself, and I try to convince my father to help me avoid the kiss. Right?" Draco summarized.

"Right. Now all we need is a cloak, some polyjuice potion, and a strand of Goyle's hair. Actually, more like a handful of strands, in case we need to go back again," Potter said.

"Right. And I can meet with Goyle and get the hair, while you get the cloak and the polyjuice," Draco said.

"I think we should go to Azkaban without the potion first. Just me and Goyle Sr. I'll try to convince Goyle first, when he doesn't believe me, we'll show up the next day with you as Goyle Jr." Potter added.

"Alright. I need to owl Goyle. See if he'll meet me tonight," Draco said.

Potted nodded.

And then added a moment later, "I'll go track down a polyjuice potion. We'll head to Azkaban first thing tomorrow morning. Meet here."

Draco nodded. He closed the folder in front of him which contained Goyle's file and put away his quill and parchment. When he rose, he was surprised to see Potter's hand extended once again. He shook the hand quickly, before retreating from the picnic table into the Ministry.

After returning to the Aurors office briefly to return his files, Draco went back outside to the dissapiration point. Despite his desire to walk home as he usually did when he left the Ministry at the end of a day's work, Draco decided he was in too much of a rush for the delay. From the courtyard, Draco disappeared, reappearing on the landing outside his flat. He performed his usual unlocking charms, before entering and taking off his boots.

Almost immediately, Sappho was at his feet.

"Hi, Sap," Draco said, tossing his bag on the sofa in his small living room. He knew the cat would be mad at him for not greeting her nicely, but he had things to do.

Draco went quickly to his bedroom where a sliding door lead outside to a small balcony. He climbed through the door, stood on the balcony and gave a small whistle. He waited. Another whistle. Then he saw him: a handsome gray owl flying low through the sky.

As the animal approached, Draco backed away from the rail, bumping into the small chair on the balcony. Still, he wanted to allow the majestic creature room to land comfortably.

"Hey, Grouch. I need you to deliver a letter for me. Wait here," Draco commanded. Grouch had been his owl for nearly half his life. Draco let him roam around wherever he pleased, confident that when he whistled, Grouch would always come. The animal had never failed him.

Draco walked back into the living room again. He sat on the couch, digging in his bag for a quill and a piece of parchment. _Make this sound casual,_ Draco thought as he began to write.

 _Goyle,_

 _Drinks tonight? My place, 10:00._

 _DM_

Draco folded the letter, magically sealing it with the Malfoy green and black coat of arms.

When he walked back onto the balcony, Draco paused to open the small wooden box which sat atop the small glass table Draco kept outside. The box held owl treats, a fact which Grouch had quickly learned. Draco reached his hand in to retrieve one treat. The owl squawked. _Fine,_ Draco thought, reaching into grab another. _Greedy Grouch._

He tied the parchment to the owl's leg, and then fed him the two treats. "To Goyle, Gregory," Draco commanded. The owl nipped his finger before flying off into this distance. Draco went inside then to give Sappho some proper attention. He had a few hours before Goyle would arrive, a few hours before he had to put the plan into motion.

 _Now, we wait,_ Draco thought. Easing onto the couch with Sappho at his side.

* * *

"Hermione," Ron wined, "we've been sitting here all day. Don't you think we would have seen something by now?"

"Patience Ronald," Hermione scolded.

"You've been saying that since 2, it's nearly 9 now. I'm hungry and tired. We need to go somewhere, do something. We can't just sit here. We should meet up with Dawlish or Proudfoot, see if Selwyn is with Jugson and Rowle," Ron suggested.

"Ron, you said yourself you saw Selwyn unlock this door with his wand. He lives here. He'll either come back or come out eventually. We need to wait," Hermione said again. It had been like this all day: Ron suggesting the two go somewhere else, and Hermione insisting they stay.

"That, or we was only here for the night. Or visiting someone," Ron said.

Hermione knew he might be right, but something in her told her this was where they were going to find Selwyn. They'd been huddled together under the invisibility cloak sitting atop the crates for hours now. There was no end in sight. Hermione scolded herself silently for not thinking to bring snacks. And they'd run out of coffee a few hours before. She too was starving, her stomach grumbling when she thought about the leftovers Molly had insisted she take with her the night before, now waiting in her fridge at home.

"I know, Ron. I just think we need to wait a little longer," Hermione said again.

"How much longer?" Ron asked, "We can't bloody well sit here all night."

Hermione knew he was right. They hadn't been prepared enough. She felt like she had failed her first Auror mission.

"We'll stay until 10:00."

That meant one more hour. If Selwyn hadn't appeared by then, they would have to devise a new plan the next day.

As the next thirty minutes passed, Ron and Hermione remained silent. Ron, brooding. He grew increasingly irritable, his constant leg jiggling was driving Hermione just about crazy. She looked up at the darkened sky through the invisibility cloak, the stars were beginning to shine above.

"Hermione, look," Ron whispered suddenly, elbowing her in the ribs to get her attention. Hermione followed his eyes to the mouth of the alleyway where a man now stood in the space that before had been empty.

Hermione watched as the man faced outwards, into the street, looking both ways. He was clad in a long black robe, a hood over his head. His wand was in his hand. Seemingly satisfied, the man turned and began walking slowly, quietly down the alleyway toward Ron and Hermione.

Although his face was mostly hooded, Hermione saw it did resemble the picture of Selwyn posted in the Auror Office. A long thin nose, thin lips, dark brown almond shaped eyes. Bits of his long hair hung in his face. It wasn't the same dark brown hair which appeared on the poster, dyed Malfoy-blonde now, but Hermione was sure the man was Selwyn.

Upon that realization, she felt her pulse quicken. She reached into her pocket for her wand, gripping it firmly in her clenched first. She felt Ron move slightly closer to her, placing a protective arm around her shoulder. His wand securely in his hand as well.

"It's him," Ron whispered into her ear.

At the sound of Ron's voice, Selwyn paused. He was close enough now that if Hermione had extended her leg, she could kick him. She slowed her breathing, wishing herself and Ron to be as quiet as possible.

This was the first time in a long time Hermione had felt she was in serious danger. Not since the Battle of Hogwarts had she felt fear like this. A Death Eater, a known killer, stood a mere foot from where she and Ron sat.

Selwyn turned, cocking his head to listen intently.

"Homonym Revelio," the Death Eater whispered, his wand pointing at the pile of crates Hermione and Ron sat on.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Ron's hand gave her shoulder a squeeze as if to say "this is it, get ready to fight."

But, nothing happened. The cloak stayed put. Hermione's brain swam with questions. This shouldn't be possible, a ministry cloak was no match for a strong revealing charm, it should just fall right off them, showing the figures huddled underneath.

But Selwyn didn't move. He couldn't see them. They were safe.

Selwyn, satisfied that nobody had followed him, turned and whispered a few unlocking charms under his breath. Opening the heavy metal door with a flick of his wand, he walked into the blackness beyond. The door slammed shut with a bang and Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding.

They were silent for a moment, ensuring Selwyn was far enough from ear shot.

"Good thing I brought Harry's cloak," Ron said. Now Hermione understood. Only the true invisibility cloak, made by death himself, could withstand a revealing charm.

Hermione's heart rate slowly returned to normal, "we should be more careful though, next time."

"At least we know where he lives now," Ron commented. "Now we can leave, come back tomorrow morning early and try to catch him leaving."

"I think we should put up an alarm," Hermione said.

"What?"

"An alarm. Remember when we came to Hogsmeade before we went to Hogwarts. When Aberforth rescued us? Remember the alarm when we landed? I've been doing some research, and I'm fairly certain we can set up an alarm in this alley. That way we'll know if anyone tries to leave or enter," Hermione explained.

The look on Ron's face told her he was skeptical.

"Hermione, Selwyn will notice if bloody alarm goes off every time he leaves his flat," Ron pointed out.

"I know that," Hermione snapped, "We can set up a silent alarm."

"Good. I'm pretty sure that will do nothing though, seeing as if it's silent, we won't be able to hear it."

"Ron, will you just listen for a moment? We can set up a Caterwauling Charm, like the one the Death Eater's used when they set a curfew. Only we can add a Protean Charm to it, like I did with the D.A. Galleons. You remember right?"

Ron nodded.

"We can arrange it so that my watch makes a beeping sound, the alarm, when the real Caterwauling charm is triggered. If we're sitting in the alleyway, we can turn off the watch, and the alarm won't sound," Hermione finished.

"Blimey Hermione, you know how to do that?" Ron said, an astonished look on his face.

"Obviously Ron, I wouldn't have suggested it if I couldn't," Hermione replied.

"I just need a moment," Hermione moved to get up, but was held down by Ron's arm.

"I don't think you should get out under the cloak," he said, "You never knew who's watching, you know."

So, the two of them slowly stood up, stretching the sore muscles in their legs as they went. They climbed down carefully from the crates and Hermione began performing the complex set of spells.

* * *

Draco paced around his kitchen. It was nearly ten, time for Goyle to arrive. He'd received confirmation of the meeting an hour before. He was nervous. It had been awhile since he had seen Goyle and wasn't sure if his former best friend would continue to trust him after he became an Auror.

Plus, Draco had to get some of Goyle's hair and still wasn't entirely sure how he was going to accomplish the task. He knew this was his only opportunity and he couldn't afford to fuck up.

He picked up Sappho, cradling her in his arms. He spoke softly into her ear, "You need to be hidden when Goyle arrives. He won't like you. But you can stay in my room. I'll even leave the balcony door open for you if you promise not to jump down."

The cat purred in his arms. When he placed her on the bed, Sappho instantly jumped to the ground and walked over the sliding door which lead to the balcony. Draco opened it a few inches, allowing the cat to step outside. Good on her word, Sappho took a few more steps into the centre of the balcony and then sat down. She turned and blinked at Draco as if to tell him she wouldn't jump.

"Good girl," Draco said, "I'll come get you when he's gone."

When Draco exited his room, shutting the door behind him, he heard the knock.

He walked over the entrance, opening the door to reveal his old friend and dorm mate. Goyle was tall, much taller than Draco, and broader. His short brown hair was nearly buzzed, a few curls on top. He wore a green polo shirt and dark jeans. Draco, for his part, had been sure to wear one of the few t-shirts he owned, revealing his Dark Mark. He thought it best to remind his friend, especially one who doubted him, that he had once been a Death Eater, that he had the power here.

"Hey mate," Draco said, inviting Goyle in. "Sorry for the short notice. I needed a drink, it's been a hard few weeks."

"No doubt," Goyle replied, "I heard you're an Auror now? What'd Lucius have to say about that?"

"Don't give a fuck what Lucius thinks," Draco said, turning and walking toward the kitchen. Goyle followed, smirking.

Draco waved his wand, and two glasses appeared, one before himself and one before Goyle. A bottle of firewhiskey poured a drink in both.

"Besides, I work with Potter and the Weasel and Granger. You should see the looks on their faces when I beat them at duels," Draco boasted. A lie, he'd hadn't dueled Potter or Weasley since arriving at training. And he was pretty sure Granger beat him as often as he beat her.

Goyle laughed. _Fucking idiot,_ Draco thought. He honestly couldn't fathom how he had spent so many years talking with this fool.

After an hour or so passed and Draco still hadn't been close enough to Goyle to get a piece of his hair, Draco began to panic. Time was running out. He needed a plan.

The pair still stood in the kitchen, Draco resting his back against one counter, Goyle sitting atop the opposite one, next to the sink. Draco ran his hand through his long hair, thinking quickly while pretending to listen to Goyle's story about some girl he'd slept with a week before.

It was then that Draco saw the pile of plates stacked on the shelves above Goyle's head. He had an idea. Slyly, Draco reached his hand into his back pocket and retrieved his wand. Goyle was too drunk to notice. He held the wand firmly in his hand and pointed it toward the plates.

"Levi-O-sa," Draco said in his head, careful to place the emphasis on the correct syllable. The plates rose, hovering in midair. Draco moved his wand slightly, and the plates left their shelf, now hovering directly above Goyle's head.

Draco let them fall with a crash.

Each of the plates smashed over Goyle's head, one by one. Before Goyle even had a chance to shout, he had passed out, falling from the counter to Draco's kitchen floor. The plates lay broken all around him.

 _Perfect,_ Draco thought. He bent down over Goyle, ripping a couple of hairs from his skull and placing them carefully in a cup on the counter opposite the mess. A little dramatic perhaps, but the plan worked.

Draco quickly cleaned up the mess, reassembling the plates and placing them back on the shelf above the counter. When he was finished, he revived Goyle, who looked, above all, extremely confused as to why he was lying on the floor.

"You passed out, mate," Draco said.

"Huh?" Goyle asked, straining to sit himself up.

"You passed out. Drank too much, I suppose," Draco said, extending his hand to help the man to his feet.

"What? That hasn't happened to me since fifth year in the common room," Goyle exclaimed. It was actually bizarre to think that a man of his size could be rendered unconscious by a few drinks. But Draco knew Goyle was dumb enough to buy the lie.

"Counterfeit firewhiskey, more poisonous than usual," he lied again. Plausible.

"Should have warned me, mate," Goyle responded.

"Right," Draco replied, "Sorry about that. I'm feeling a little woozy myself. Should be off to bed. Early morning."

Truthfully, Draco had barely had a drink. When Goyle had gone to the washroom earlier, he'd charmed a glass of water to look like Firewhiskey.

"Yeah. Listen, sorry about that, didn't mean to fall over on you" Goyle said.

"Happens to the best of us," Draco replied, walking Goyle over.

 _Phase one complete,_ Draco thought as he shook the hand of the man he would soon become.

* * *

A/N 2: Next chapter: Draco and Harry interview Goyle, Ron and Hermione interview Travers. During a tracking mission, Draco makes a discovery that forces him to ask for Hermione's help. Can she put aside their differences for the sake of the mission?


	5. The Mission II

A/N: Sorry it's been awhile since I've posted! I was on vacation. This is Part II of the previous chapter: The Mission. I think there will be four or five in total. I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to everyone who followed and favourited.

Also, reviews are very much appreciated. I'd like to take your opinions into account as I continue writing: what you'd like to see happen, what you don't like so much, what I can improve upon. All feedback makes this better! Because this is my first fanfiction, I'm learning as I go. So, REVIEW!

Specifically, what do you think of the quicker changes in perspective this time around? I like writing like like this, though I understand it may be harder to follow. Let me know!

Also, thanks to JKR for her wonderful world, I get lost in it too frequently.

* * *

Chapter 5: The Mission II

He walked briskly down the cobblestone street. They followed, huddled beneath their cloak.

It was early, too early. The store's hadn't yet opened and the few people mingling about in the morning hours sat quietly by themselves, enjoying the repose offered by a village not yet awakened. The silence made their footsteps feel heavy.

Occasionally, Selwyn would stop walking, turn and listen behind him. It was as though he could sense someone was following him though they were, to him, invisible. Hermione barely breathed.

They had met an hour before, 5:00am in an all-night diner near Hermione's flat. Eggs and bacon to start the day. They sat by the window. Ron looked tired, dark bags circling his blue-green eyes. His red hair a mess under his hat. He and Hermione ate quickly and silently. She knew she too looked tired. Her bush of curly auburn hair in a messy bun atop her head. Her sweater wrinkled, her jeans dirty. It was all they could do to stay awake. Stay awake, and eat.

"We'll go back to the crates later?" Ron asked, a mouthful of eggs in his mouth.

Hermione looked out the window. Nothing sounded worse than another day huddled under the cloak, sitting on uncomfortable wooden crates, with her ex-boyfriend. She sighed, "I think we have to. We'll just wait for him to make a move. I don't know what else we can do."

"We should go soon," Ron said, finishing the last of his eggs.

It was then they heard the sound, quiet, muffled by Hermione's long sleeves. Beep. Beep. Beep. She looked down at her watch, it's face alit with fluorescent blue lights. Beep. Beep. Beep.

* * *

Beep. Beep. Beep. Draco groaned. Beep. Beep. Beep. He rolled over, picked up his wand on the nightstand and silenced the alarm across the room.

"Meow. Meow," Draco heard from the foot of the bed. _Fuck,_ Draco thought, rubbing the sleep from his face. _Why even have an alarm when I have a hungry cat?_

It was early, too early. His body felt heavy as he climbed out of bed.

He went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

Today was the day he would go back to Azkaban. He had been there before, as a prisoner. The thought of walking those halls again filled his heart with dread. Draco remembered his stay there clearly and he relived it night after night in his dreams.

His cell was small, damp. Its stone walls cold against his back. There was no bed, only a small hole in the corner for a toilet. He had stayed there for four days. The first two were spent crying uncontrollably, his mind fixated on the idea of spending the rest of his life in hell.

The other prisoners, Death Eaters who had been captured by the Order and the Aurors following the final battle, sat in cells together. Draco and his family were unwelcome there. His safety would have been compromised if he was left at the mercy of the vultures. Still, he heard their taunts day and night: some directed toward Lucius or Narcissa, others for him. Defector! Bloor-traitor! Scum! Filth!

Worse than the Death Eater's taunts were the howls of prisoners who had never escaped, who had lived entire lives in Azkaban, whose minds had been tortured by Dementors for decades. Hollow men walked the halls of Azkaban.

And worse than those howls was the silence.

Draco had a cellmate: an old wizard, old enough to have been forgotten by the outside world.

The man lay on the hard, cold floor, eyes gazing up at the ceiling above. He had no voice, no thoughts, no life. He was a man once kissed. And as Draco watched his expressionless face he finally understood why the kiss was worse than death. To die is to move beyond, into the realm of peace, comfort, and light. To be kissed is to live trapped in a body without a soul, a world filled only with darkness. Draco felt sick looking at him.

And still, that man, his blank eyes, haunted Draco's dreams. While the old wizard could not speak, Draco was sure he understood his message loud and clear. Draco too, he realized, lived in a body without a soul, or at least, no soul directed by his own free will. He and the rest of the Death Eaters, they had sold their souls to Voldemort.

He wished more than anything to find his again.

Sappho meowed, drawing Draco's attention back to the present. She wanted to be fed.

She seemed to understand this was a quiet morning for reflective thought and left Draco alone as he dressed and readied himself for work. She sat gazing out the window, perhaps dreaming of her own life beyond the apartment walls.

"I'll be back later," he said to the grey tabby. "I'll leave the balcony door open. Don't get into any trouble, okay?"

Sappho meowed.

Draco went to the landing outside his door and apparated straight to the ministry.

* * *

"We need to go," Hermione said urgently to Ron. The watched had stopped beeping which was indication that Selwyn had left his alley, or else the person who had arrived had gone inside.

Ron was already up, holding his last piece of toast in his mouth, as he moved quickly for the front door. Together, he and Hermione walked into the alleyway beside the shop. Huddling behind a large dumpster, they threw on the invisibility cloak. Harry had asked for his to be returned. Hermione felt slightly less confident now, knowing the ministry cloaks were not as good as Harry's. Still, they needed protection. Ron grabbed her arm once they were invisible and they apparated to Hogsmeade.

They emerged at the mouth of the alleyway in which they had sat the day before. Quickly scanning her surroundings, Hermione saw Selwyn walking a few paces in front of them, headed down the street. They followed as quickly and as silently as possible.

After a few minutes of follow the leader, Selwyn slowed to a final stop. He went into a small Café on the very edge of town. Hermione and Ron watched from the window.

"What's he doing?" Hermione asked, worried that she wasn't able to see his full body from their perch outside.

"I think he's getting breakfast, Hermione," Ron said, a smirk on his face. He too was eating, his last piece of toast already half gone.

Hermione glared. Catching her eye, Ron shrugged, "What, you want a bite?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron, always thinking about food. Hermione had barely touched her breakfast, too nervous for the day ahead.

"What if he apparates?" Hermione asked, biting her lip in concern, her brow furrowing.

"We follow," Ron said, his voice still muffled by his bites of toast.

"Follow? Ron, we can hardly just grab on to his arm and ask him to take us for a side along," Hermione commented. "Robards told us the other Death Eaters – Rowle and Jugson – have traces on them. Except I don't think Selwyn's got a trace yet. We won't be able to find him if he apparates away from Hogsmeade.

"We should send a message to the others, let them know we can't follow him. Hopefully they'll watch him if he meets up with Rowle or Jugson," Hermione continued after a moment of thought.

By now, Selwyn was sitting comfortably at a table in the small café. For the time being, it looked as though he was going nowhere.

Hermione watched as Ron brought out his wand from his pocket, holding it out in the space before him.

"Boot and Dawlish are tracking today. We'll send it to them," Ron said. "Expect-"

"Ron!" Hermione stopped him before he could finish the incantation. "You can't just send them a Patronus. What if they're undercover!? You'll give away their position."

Ron frowned.

"Here, let me. We'll send it to the office, hopefully someone is there to see it and can give them a message."

"Expecto Patronum," Hermione said quietly under her breath. She watched as a silvery stream of light escaped her wand's tip. The light curled around itself, eventually taking form just inches from her face: a small otter, ready to deliver her message.

* * *

Draco paced. Paced between the empty cubicles in the Auror office at the Ministry. Potter was late. Draco cursed him silently, f _uck Potter, fucking king of the fucking world thinks he's too important to be bloody well on time._

Draco's internal brooding ended when he saw the silvery shape appear before him. It started as small blue light, and Draco's head immediately swam with questions. Was Potter late because something had happened to him? Was the plan ruined? Would they go to Azkaban at all? Was someone hurt? Surely this light would take the form of a stag, which Draco knew to be Potter's Patronus. And it would be delivering a dreadful message.

But, the light turned instead into a little otter. Draco wracked his brain. He didn't know to whom this Patronus belonged and what message it could be bearing.

The otter spoke: "On patrol, watching Selwyn. No trace. Alert Dawlish and Boot if possible. Selwyn is moving."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He had immediately recognized the voice as that of Granger's. It filled the space easily and for some reason, Draco found it immensely comforting. With a few simple words, his body had filled with warmth. He told himself the warmth was relief, it meant Potter was not in trouble and the plan was still in action. It wasn't Granger's voice which comforted him, but the fact it had not delivered a dreadful message. Still, some small part of Draco wished the message was longer, or that he could replay it, craving the soft, feminine sound of her whisper. _Granger means nothing_ , Draco reminded himself, just another colleague he was trying not to hate.

It was a simple message, but Draco had little idea what to do with it. How could he contract Dawlish or Boot without knowing their whereabouts? He couldn't send an owl, or a Patronus, both would potentially give up their position. He resumed his pacing, cursing Potter louder in his head, biting off the last tangible piece of his fingernail. The least he could was to write the message down, he thought. That way, if Dawlish or Boot did arrive, they would know to look out for Selwyn.

He went quickly to his small cubicle, unadorned save a small green and silver Slytherin plaque. Removing a small piece of paper from his stack of notes, he wrote quickly in his eloquent cursive.

As much as he had been taught in the past month, little was said about how the Aurors contacted one another in case of an emergency. They were to use Patronus if the message was dire, but this didn't quite seem like a life or death situation.

He wrote:

 _ATTN: Dawlish and Boot_

 _Granger and Weasley are tracking Selwyn. No trace. He's on the move._

Surely his more experienced colleagues would know what to do if they found the message first. For now, it was all he could think of. He went into the dining hall to post the notice on the bulletin board. As he exited the room, walking back toward his cubicle, he saw the elevator door open and Potter emerge.

"Where the fuck have you been? We're late," Draco nearly shouted. His voice rougher than he had intended.

"Sorry, sorry, I know. I had to find the polyjuice. I've got it here. And the cloak. We can leave now," Potter replied, hastily. He and Draco stood waiting for the elevator to reappear.

* * *

"What if no one is there to get the message?" Ron asked after Hermione had completed the spell.

"I don't know. I guess we'll send another later?" Hermione questioned. She realized now just how unprepared they were for the mission before them. And if Hermione hated anything, it was being unprepared.

Hermione peered again into the café. Although Selwyn's back was turned to them, Hermione could tell he was nearly finished his breakfast as he drained the last sip from his coffee cup. She got ready to move again. Questioned swirled around her brain: did the Patronus reach anyone? How would they follow Selwyn? What if he went somewhere with an apparition barrier in place? What if he didn't go anywhere, just back to his basement? Would they learn anything about what he was doing? What if she failed, let herself down?

Her stomach was a ball of anxiety. Waiting is, at times, harder than acting. Hermione knew that lesson well, having spent months on the run with Harry and Ron; waiting in the woods for news, a sign, a thought, a plan. Waiting for the final battle they knew was emerging.

Watching Selwyn reminded Hermione of that period in so many ways. Waiting, unprepared for the unknown which was soon to come, with her best friends but nevertheless alone, putting herself to the side for the greater good. It was a life lived in constant fear of the trouble just around the corner. Trouble which could bring mortal peril.

Selwyn moved. Gathering the paper bag on the seat beside him, he exited the shop. He resumed his quick pace down the street. Ron and Hermione followed closely but tentatively; careful to remain within an arm's reach, but far enough that their presence wouldn't be detected.

Then, Selwyn darted, quickly changing the course of his path. He walked straight into an alleyway, and without a moment's hesitation, turned on the spot. Ron was quicker than she. One of his hands reached out from under the cloak, grabbing Selwyn shoulder. Ron's other hand gripped Hermione's. Together, they followed Selwyn into the abyss.

* * *

Draco landed, Potter at his side.

He took a moment to look at his surroundings. He could see Azkaban, towering above his head off in the distance, its stark lines blocking the grey sky above. The fortress looked as foreboding as Draco remembered. In the opposite direction, Draco could see the vast ocean, its waves roaring. There was no other land in sight. Once again, his stomach filled with panic. The look on his face must have made transparent his unease, for the first thing he heard upon landing was Potter's voice in his ear.

"You alight?"

"Obviously, Potter," Draco spat. He wasn't alright. He was thinking about the last time he had landed here. That time, he had been headed for a cell as a convicted Death Eater. This time, he was headed to an interrogation room as an Auror-in-training. How the times changed.

"More of you lot, eh? There's been a few already this morning. Something big stirring?" A large guard asked from outside the apparition barrier. All three had wands ready in their hands.

"Just a few interviews," Potter replied.

The guard nodded. "Just need to see your wands," he commanded. Potter and Draco handed theirs over, each in turn.

When he was finished with his inspection, the guard stepped aside, revealing the long dirt path which lead to the single entrance to Azkaban prison.

Draco and Potter walked briskly forwards toward the door.

* * *

They landed in front of a door. On either side, a row of hedges formed an alleyway. The only way out was behind them. In front of them, Selwyn held his wand at the ready.

"Who's there?" he whispered.

Hermione panicked. She took a second to size up her situation. It was risky doing side along apparation with anyone, let alone someone you were hiding from. So much could go wrong, they could have landed directly atop Selwyn, revealing their position. The invisibility cloak could have fallen, they could have been splinched. She checked herself quickly to ensure she was okay. Limbs present, feet grounded.

The invisibility cloak was still securely hiding their bodies, but Hermione was sure Selwyn knew he had been followed.

When she looked back at him, his face was mere inches from her own. His hand rose, grasping at the air in front of him. He was looking for the cloak.

Impulsively, she and Ron ducked, avoiding his outstretched fingers. But, in the process, Hermione had escape from her lips a quiet shriek.

Again, Selwyn reached out his hand to try and remove the cloak. At the same time, a spell came swirling from his wand. Hermione and Ron darted it, but, they darted in opposite directions.

Hermione found her body slammed against the edge of the hedge on one side, while Ron flew to the other. Standing quickly, she faced her target, wand pointed, body exposed from beneath the cloak which had fallen to their feet. She looked through her periphery to her left where Ron had just been tossed. In his place was empty space. Ron had completely disappeared. Her eyes widened in shock. Two thoughts ran through her head simultaneously: first was Robards voice warning her to never leave her Partner. The other was her survival instinct, screaming at her to strike against Selwyn.

Just as Hermione silently spoke "Expelliarmus," another spell blasted from the hedges into which Ron had disappeared.

Selwyn paused, his body standing upright from his battle stance. Hermione watched as he looked up at the sky, his hand running through his hair. Then, he began slowly walking in circles, his eyes still aimed above. _What the…?_ Hermione thought. It was then she realized Selwyn looked confused.

"Ron!" She whispered. "Ron!?"

"Here, over here," She saw Ron's hand emerge from the thick leaves of the hedge. Pausing to pick up their fallen invisibility cloak, she swiftly crawled into the hole to where Ron was now waiting, safely. Beside him were Dawlish and Williamson.

"He's confundused," Dawlish said.

Now Hermione understood. The circles, and the sky staring, the blank look on Selwyn's face. He _was_ confused.

"Thanks," Hermione said. "I don't know what we were thinking," she glared at Ron, "doing side-along apparition. We could have been killed!"

"Yes, you could have," Dawlish replied, his voice stern, like that of a teacher scolding his student.

"Don't worry though. We all made that mistake. You're just lucky we were here when you landed. If the cloak hadn't fallen off, we wouldn't have known you were there. You almost made it," Williamson interjected. He was more like the fun older brother, still concerned for their safety, but his voice less stern than Dawlish's had been.

"Bloody terrifying, that was," Ron replied. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're tracking Rowle. He stays here sometimes," Dawlish said.

"There's a strong disillusionment charm on this side of the hedge, so we can see when he comes and goes but he can't see us. He's been inside for two days now," Williamson elaborated.

"I think Selwyn is coming around," Ron said, peering through the foliage.

Hermione turned to watch him. Sure enough, he was now pacing up and down between the hedges, looking around at the ground, inspecting to see whether there was evidence of a spy. They all watched intently.

When Selwyn was seemingly satisfied that he had not been followed, he turned and walked toward the large wooden door between the hedges. It was ornate, carved into its surface was a symbol: two large snakes, bodies entwined. Their tongues looped together, forming a door-knocker. Selwyn reached up and gripped it firmly.

* * *

Draco gripped the handle on the small metal door leading into Azkaban. Before he had time to turn it, Potter reached his arm out to stop him.

"Here," Potter said, holding out what looked to Draco like an old, ratty blanket. "Put this on."

"Invisibility cloak?" Draco questioned, reaching out to hold the blanket between his fingertips. He had never seen one quite like this before, its colour and fabric so warn. The ministry invisibility cloaks looked relatively new and shiny in comparison.

"My dad's," Potter explained. "I had to stop by the Burrow this morning to get it from Ron."

"The Burrow?"

"The Weasley house."

Draco scoffed. Who called their house The Burrow? What were they, gophers? But, Draco kept quiet. Instead, he took the blanket from Potter, pulled it over his head. Ensuring his feet were hidden, Draco stood by as Potter opened the heavy metal door.

They walked inside.

The room was small and barely lit. Its stone walls reminded Draco of those of his cell. A row of chairs lined one wall. On the opposite side of the room, there was a small desk. A heavy set guard sat behind it on a small wooden chair. His head was directed toward the ceiling, and Draco could hear his soft snoring. None of the other Aurors were waiting which meant he and Potter were the last to arrive.

Walking over the desk, Potter cleared his throat loudly.

The guard didn't move.

"Excuse me?" Potter asked, speaking rather loudly. Still, the guard snored on.

"Sir?" Potter spoke even more loudly this time but to no avail.

Draco kicked the table, causing it to jump forward an inch or two, hitting the guard in his round stomach. At this, he awoke with a jump.

"Alright, alright!" He exclaimed, looking up at Potter. "No need to get pushy. I'm up, I'm up! Prisoners aren't going anywhere, you know. A little patience, sir," he scolded.

"Right," Potter said, "Sorry about that, really, don't know what came over me."

Draco sneered when he saw Potter's subtle glare in his direction.

"We're here to see Goyle," Potter said to the guard, who seemed assuaged by his apology.

"Lot of you lot today," the guard shuffled some papers on his desk as he spoke. After he had read them quickly, he spoke again: "Wait here. I'll get Goyle."

The guard stood. He walked the short distance to another metal door within the small room, this one, Draco knew, lead the way deeper inside the prison. The guard removed his wand from his back pocket, recited a few unlocking charms, and entered.

Potter shuffled his feet and then walked over to one of the chairs on the opposite wall. He took a seat, resting his elbows on his knees, his face on his hands.

"Tired Potter?" Draco taunted.

Draco knew he couldn't sit for the cloak wasn't long enough to hide his legs at that angle.

"Shut up Malfoy," Potter countered. "You're not even here, remember?"

"Do you know what you're going to say?" Draco asked. He was slightly annoyed he wouldn't have the opportunity to talk to Goyle himself, tell him what a fucking horrible man he was.

"Yeah," Potter answered. And then added: "if you think of anything, just tap my shoulder. I'll tell Goyle we're taking a break, and we'll leave. We can talk outside the interview room."

Before he could reply, Draco heard the guard's footsteps coming down back toward the room from the other side of the door.

When he opened it, he called into the room, "This way Mr. Potter. Goyle's in room 16."

The second the door sealed behind him, Draco's heart rate increased. Firstly, because he was trapped once again in the prison walls, and secondly, because it was clear the small space produced loud echoes, the footsteps bouncing off the enclosed walls. Draco took a tentative first step, and immediately regretted his decision. There was a not-so-quiet clang when his foot made contact with the stone.

Potter noticed, as did the guard. And then, Potter coughed loudly, covering up any further noise.

"Sorry, got a bit of a chill," Potter said.

As the two began walking down the narrow hallway, Potter began talking very loudly. Draco was thankful, knowing he was doing so strictly to cover up any sound Draco would inadvertently make while walking.

"How many of us came this morning?" Potter asked.

"Eight so far, earliest was 3am. I've been up and about more this morning than in the last three months," the guard explained.

"I imagine you'll be quite busy for the next few weeks," Potter half-shouted. "Lots of work to do right now. Just checking to see if we missed anything, running a few more interviews.

We've had great weather in London this week. It's a shame you don't get to see it out here. Really, very sunny, not a drop of rain. Just great. Warm too, not a day below 20. Really beautiful. Do you get many days off? I know I don't. We've been doing some field work lately though. Good opportunity to work outside. Just beautiful. Really, truly fantastic. You should ask for some time off, take a trip to the country. Really, it's just great…" Potter continued to ramble.

 _Really? The weather?_ Draco thought to himself, willing his laughter not to escape his lips. The plan worked however, as Potter's voice completely covered the sound Draco's footsteps. As they passed some of the doors in the hallway, they heard the voices within, many of them shouting. Draco knew these were the voices of his colleagues, attempting to get any information they could out of the Death Eaters.

At last, they arrived at the door labelled 16.

The Guard pulled up short. Unlocking the door with a large, old-looking key. He swung it open, allowing Potter and, unbeknownst to him, Draco to enter.

"Goyle's just beyond this door. If you need anything, holler. You won't be able to use magic in here. But, Goyle's behind glass, can't touch ya," the guard said, closing the door behind him as he left.

This room was smaller than the first, about the size of a cell as Azkaban. There was one table, atop which sat one pitcher of water and one glass. Another metal door lead into the interrogation room.

"Ready?" Potter whispered to Draco once the door had slammed shut behind them.

"Ready," Draco confirmed.

* * *

The door opened following Selwyn's knock. Hermione, Ron, Dawlish, and Williamson watched from behind the hedge. Hermione was impressed when she saw Ron reach into his bag and remove one of his Extendable Ears. He lowered it slowly to the ground, pushing it through the concealment barrier, under the hedge.

A voice spoke as if it were beside them: "Do you have it?"

"Rowle," Dawlish mouthed to Hermione and Ron, clearly recognizing the voice of the man they had been tracking for months.

"Right here," Selwyn replied, holding up the small paper bag he carried.

"Good. And they're there?"

"About ten, the plan is stated clearly. They arrive on the 25th," Selwyn replied.

"Where will they go?"

"I've had this feeling lately, like someone is watching me. I'm not sure my place is secure. Can't be sure if it's The Ministry. I think they should come to London. Hogsmeade is too small for them to hide," Selwyn answered.

"Fine. We'll talk next week."

With that, Rowle slammed the door.

 _Odd,_ Hermione thought.

Hermione hadn't seen Rowle, his face obscured by the blackness in his home.

What was in the bag? Selwyn had passed it off to Rowle, but Hermione hadn't realized it was of any importance until then. She scolded herself again. They shouldn't have followed Selwyn, they should have stolen his bag while they had the chance. Clearly, Rowle cared more about its contents than he did about Selwyn's presence.

She watched as Selwyn disapparated from between the hedges.

"What the hell was that?" Ron asked. "Do you know?" He turned to the more experienced Aurors, Dawlish and Williamson.

"Haven't a clue," Williamson said.

"But, we do know a few things. One, Rabastan and Rodolphus will be back from South America by the 25th. Two, they'll be in London. Three, whatever was in that bag contains everything we need to know about the plan. I know it doesn't seem like much, but this is good detective work. Very good," Dawlish added.

Hermione furled her brow. It seemed they had more questions than answers at this point.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Hermione glanced at her watch.

"Well, I guess we know Selwyn's gone home. Wasn't a very eventful outing, was it?" She said.

"What was that beeping?" Williamson asked, looking puzzled.

"Wait till you hear about it, Hermione was bloody brilliant," Ron said.

That felt nice. Hermione could tell by the grin on his face that he was immensely proud that he had been part of the team which came up with the idea. She looked down, her cheeks blushing slightly as she took the watch from her wrist.

"I set up a Caterwauling Charm in the alleyway outside the flat where Selwyn is staying. We had to keep on the lookout yesterday before we confirmed he lived there. When the barrier is triggered, either by someone coming or going, my watch signals me. I used a Pr-"

Dawlish cut in, him and Hermione finishing her sentence together: "A Protean Charm."

"Superb," Dawlish complemented, "Really, that's very advanced magic Ms. Granger. I can see why Shacklebolt thought you had such good potential."

Hermione's blush deepened.

* * *

"I know you know what the plan is. Just tell us, and this can be over," Potter said for the thousandth time that afternoon. They had been in the interrogation room for a little over five hours. Five exhausting hours.

It began with Potter playing nice, telling Goyle he would receive a commuted sentence if he revealed The Lestrange's plan.

At first, Goyle had denied he had any knowledge of the plan to which Potter was referring. After an hour of listening to them squabble, Draco had tapped Potter on the shoulder, indicating he wanted to speak with him.

Together, he and Potter left the interrogation room, walking to the desk. After Potter poured himself a glass of water, he looked up at Draco expectantly.

"Look, this nice guy stuff isn't working. You need to push harder. You need to lie, Potter. Tell him the other Death Eaters already told you he's the only one who knows about the plan. It'll make him feel important, like he was trusted with privileged information. Trust me, I know how Death Eater's mind's work, stroke their ego and they'll spill." Draco said quickly.

Potter looked hesitant, deep in thought. But, eventually, he began to nod slowly, "Right. Alright, I'll try it."

"Good." _That was easy,_ Draco thought.

As he got to know Potter more throughout their partnership, Draco found his opinion of him growing rapidly. He would never admit it, but he'd come to respect Potter's level-headedness, his ambition, and his ability to ask for and listen to advice.

When Potter went in again, Draco was somewhat shocked to hear him tell Goyle almost exactly what he had told him to say. Potter told Goyle the Aurors knew he was the only locked up Death Eater who knew of the plan, and that if he revealed the plan, he would be allowed to leave Azkaban eventually. Goyle's strength waivered then.

He admitted he knew the plan but nevertheless said he would not reveal it. He was adamant that he would not go against his fellow Death Eaters, he would not betray the Dark Lord.

"The Dark Lord is dead Goyle! I killed him!" Potter had replied, shouting. By this point, Potter was pacing back and forth in front of the glass which separated the Aurors from the Death Eaters.

"The Dark Lord is dead, you say? You think that can stop us? You think because our leader was killed that our plans are spoiled? You're all fooling yourselves, Potter. The movement doesn't die when the leader falls."

"Strength? Strength?! You're locked up in Azkaban, Goyle! You can't lead anyone!" Potter paused, he sat back down in his chair. When he spoke again his voice was low, menacing: "Goodness always prevails against evil, Goyle. The world cannot live in darkness, life cannot thrive in darkness. The light always wins, Goyle. You're on the wrong side in this battle."

"And yet you come to me for information, Potter. You think you and your Ministry are the light. No, you are the ones vanquishing magic from this world, you are the ones turning the light off on the magical world. You are the ones who are bringing the darkness upon us." Goyle said, his voice barely a whisper.

Potter sighed. It was a battle of will, Draco could see it. And neither Potter nor Goyle would give up anytime soon. It was time for them to up the ante.

Draco tapped Potter again. Again, they walked out of the room. Again, Potter poured himself a glass of water. Draco could see he was tired but resilient.

"We need to tell him about his son. Give him the night to think it over. He won't break today," Draco counselled.

He could see it in the aging man's eyes that Goyle was as tired as Potter. And Draco knew from experience that in Azkaban, the prisoners barely slept, barely ate. In fact, Draco could see in Goyle Sr.'s appearance the effect the prison had had on him.

The man was once tall, proud. His stomach protruding in front of him as he walked. Now, he was a sack of bones, his shoulders hunched, his body looked as though it ached. His grey hair was long, straggly, his beard matching. His teeth had yellowed.

"Right, okay." Potter said, nodding again. He took a gulp of water, and then re-entered the interrogation room.

"We have some information which may be of concern to you. Your son, Gregory Goyle, he's up for the kiss," Potter paused to watch Goyle's reaction. Although his eyes seemed to flicker with acknowledgment, and his face ever so slightly moved, Goyle made no other acknowledgement that he had heard the words.

Potter continued: "He violated his probation, final strike against him. Trial's next week. If he's found guilty, he'll be given the kiss. A fate worse than death, they say."

"Good," Goyle replied. With that, Draco was genuinely shocked. How could he care so little about the son he had helped raise? The son he had refused to allow take the mark because he believed it would put him in danger? Even Draco's own father, who had willingly offered him up to the Dark Lord, would do anything he could to save him from this kiss. Goyle had to be bluffing. Potter seemed to think the same.

"Good? You want him to live a life in a cell in Azkaban, unable to think, to feel? So much for your pure blood, huh?" Potter urged.

"If Gregory was stupid enough to get himself caught, he deserves the kiss," Goyle Sr. said.

"We'll see what he has to say about that tomorrow," Potter replied.

Draco saw Potter narrow his eyes: "we've been given permission to bring him here to speak with you. Tomorrow."

With that, Potter stood, without looking back at Goyle Sr. he left the room, holding the door open long enough for Draco to follow.

When it slammed behind them, Draco took off the cloak. Potter took another glass of water.

"I think we should leave him to think about that," Potter said.

"Sure," Draco agreed. "And I need to figure out what I'm going to say to him as Goyle."

"We can go over his file back at The Ministry," Potter suggested.

Before they exited Room 16, Draco put the cloak back over his head. And together, he and Potter left Azkaban for The Ministry.

It was then Draco realized how much his life had truly changed in the past few years. If you had asked him five years ago whether he'd prefer a life in Azkaban or a job at the Ministry of Magic, Draco would have picked Azkaban. Now, as he left the prison with his former nemesis at his side, he wanted nothing more than to get back to the safety of his little cubicle at the Auror Office.

* * *

When they arrived back at the Auror office, it was eerily quiet and dark. It was also late.

Ron and Hermione had left Dawlish and Williamson behind the hedge, heading back to the alleyway in which Selwyn lived.

Rather than sitting huddled under the cloak on the crates, they had taken a table at the nearby library. Here, Hermione could read while Ron napped. If the watch beeped, they would be close enough that they could get to the alleyway to see who had entered or if Selwyn had left. But, nothing had happened for the remainder of the day. Selwyn had stayed within his lair.

At ten o'clock, Hermione and Ron had decided to finish their shift.

"We should send the watch to whomever is next on tracking duty," Hermione suggested as she and Ron gathered their belongings.

"Right. I think it's Robards and Bexley," Ron agreed.

"We can go to the post office on the way back. I'll send it to Robards with an owl," Hermione said.

Pulling out a quill and parchment, she wrote:

 _Dear Robards and Bexley,_

 _I charmed this watch with the Protean Charm. It is connected to a Caterwauling Charm. Selwyn lives in a flat beneath the Potions shop in Hogsmeade, accessible through the alleyway between it and The Library. When Selwyn enters or exits his flat – or someone visits him – the watch will beep. If you are nearby, the watch can be put on silent by pressing the top left button twice. This was my solution for tracking Selwyn as he has no trace._

 _Yours,_

 _Hermione Granger_

Satisfied with her note, Hermione reached into her extended bag, extracting a small cardboard box.

"You've got everything in there, haven't you?" Ron asked.

"It's better to be over prepared than underprepared, Ron," Hermione commented. She placed the watch in the box and wrapped the parcel with her extra parchment. Taking out a piece of twine, she secured the note to the box.

Before apparating back to the Ministry, Hermione sent her parcel via owl, hoping it arrived safely to Robards house.

Back at the Ministry, Ron and Hermione found Harry asleep in his cubicle.

Across the aisle, where his cubicle was located, Ron took a seat in his swivel chair. Hermione bent down over Harry to shake him awake. After stretching his arms above his head, and wiping his eyes with his hands, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, smiling. "How was your day?" he asked.

"Good," Ron replied. "We were tracking Selwyn. Almost got discovered when he apparated. But we also found out where Rowle lived. Dawlish and Williamson were there. They exchanged some package, not sure what was it, but it seemed important. Did you break Goyle?"

"Not yet, we've got a plan though. Should make some progress tomorrow," Harry replied.

After a moment, he continued: "I'm going to back to The Burrow to see Ginny, get a bite to eat. You want to come, Hermione?"

"No, thank you. I'm just going to go back to my flat. I want to read Travers file tonight to get a head-start on tomorrow's work," Hermione replied.

Truthfully, she was exhausted. And as much as she liked the Burrow and the Weasleys, she had little desire to make idle chat. She wanted nothing but her bathtub, a good book, and some leftover pasta.

"Alright. Is it okay if we go now?" Ron asked her.

"Yep, don't wait for me. I'll be right behind you," Hermione replied.

With that, Hermione waved goodbye to Ron and Harry. After going to the washroom, she went to the file room. She searched through the T's, eventually coming to Travers. Removing his file, she placed it carefully in her extended bag. And then, she walked back into the Auror's cubicle space.

She knew Ron and Harry had left, the lights at their desks turned off. The room was dark now, save a single yellow glow coming from a cubicle on the far side of the office. Curiously, Hermione walked over.

It was then she saw Malfoy. His slim frame dressed in his typical black clothing, his long blonde hair messy about his face. In his hand was a quill, quickly taking notes on the parchment in front of him. His face looked focused as he read from a file. _He looks quite peaceful really,_ Hermione thought as the soft desk lamp illuminated his features.

Although she knew she should pretend she hadn't seen him, and she knew he didn't like to be interrupted, Hermione walked over to his cubicle to say goodnight.

"Hi," she whispered quietly.

Malfoy startled, his face turning quickly to hers, the quill slipping from his hand.

"Oh, hi. I didn't hear you," Malfoy whispered back. Hermione watched as his hand impulsively ran through his hair. His steel grey eyes looked carefully at her. And she looked carefully at him. He looked tired. Dark bags formed under his eyes on his pale skin, his expression was weary.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I was just leaving, thought I would say goodnight," Hermione explained. She realized then how tired she must look: her hair still messy, clothes still untidy. She fidgeted.

"How was your day?" Malfoy asked, leaning back in his chair.

"It was alright. We almost got caught by Selwyn, but we've discovered where he lives and we know he has contact with Rowle."

"That's good," Malfoy commented. Hermione watched as he bit a fingernail, he looked like he felt awkward. She felt awkward.

"Was yours okay? Goyle's interview?"

"Yeah. Potter and I have a plan. We should get more information tomorrow," Malfoy explained. "I'm just going over the files."

"Right. Well, good luck, I guess. I'm sure it will be fine," Hermione said in an attempt to sound reassuring.

"Thanks." Malfoy replied drawing his attention back to his work. Hermione watched as he picked up his pen and resumed his writing. _I guess that means I should go,_ Hermione thought.

But, as she began to leave, walking down the aisle to the elevator, she heard him call out to her: "Granger!"

She turned back toward him.

"Goodnight," he said softly, once her attention was focused on him.

Hermione smiled.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," she said quietly, so quietly she wasn't sure he could hear him.

* * *

As Draco watched Hermione leave, he could have sworn he heard her say goodnight as well. And not in the cold voice she usually used when she spoke to him, but in the warm, soft voice he was coming to like.

Draco sighed, running his hand once again through his hair. He didn't know exactly what that warm feeling inside him was but he was certain he both wanted it to remain with him forever and also to never appear again.

* * *

A/N 2: Thanks again for reading! I hope you liked it :)


	6. The Mission III

A/N: Sorry for taking forever to post this. I am still writing the story, but I had to take a break for a bit due to final exams. I'll be posting much more frequently now that school is done.

This chapter is more to drive the plot forwards, nothing particularly intimate happens. Sorry about that, hopefully you'll like it enough to keep reading.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or followed, you're great!

And thanks to JKR for her characters, hopefully I'm doing them justice. Also, in case you haven't noticed, there are lines in the dialogue taken directly from the books. Usually, it's a different character saying the dialogue than it was originally. But, I thought I should give credit to JKR for those quotes.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6: The Mission III

"You ready?" Potter asked, the flask in his outstretched hand.

Draco nodded. He reached into his bag, extracting the small glass vial in which he had placed Goyle's hair a few nights prior. He removed a single strand and taking the flask from Potter, dropped the hair into the brew. It bubbled.

"Looks like bogies," Draco commented, a grimace on his face.

Potter smirked, "tastes like it too."

Draco raised his eyebrows skeptically. The way he had said it made it sound like he had tasted it before. But Draco couldn't imagine where.

"Never mind," Potter excused himself. "Let's get on with it."

Draco took a deep breath, brought the flask to his lips and then hesitated.

"How long do you think we have?" He knew he was stalling. Nervous.

"Give or take six hours, I'd say. The ministry made it. I asked for their strongest potion," Potter replied.

Draco nodded again, "tap me if you notice anything changing back."

"Cheers," Draco said, holding the flask up to Potter in salute. He took a sip, swallowed, sputtered, coughed.

"Tastes like fucking goblin piss," Draco swore.

The effects of the polyjuice potion were instantaneous.

Draco's hair darkened, receded into his head, and curled at the tips. His nose widened, eyes shrunk, and turned from their usual dark blue to a dull brown. His legs shot upwards, his shoulders outwards, and his feet lengthened. His body slowly began filling out the clothes he had worn specifically for the occasion: a striped white and green rugby shirt adorned with a slytherin coat of arms, baggy blue jeans, and ugly white tennis shoes.

"How do I look?" Draco asked Potter. His voice caught him off guard, lower and raspier than he was used to. Again, he coughed. He sounded exactly like Goyle post-puberty.

"Like Goyle," Potter replied, surveying him. "Except your facial expression. Not dumb enough."

Draco wiped his hands over his face, willing himself to act the part. The extra weight of arms felt odd. His face too felt foreign, a thick five-o'clock shadow present. His skin was rougher.

The two aurors were in the spall space outside Interrogation Room #16. On the opposite side of the thick metal door, Goyle Sr. sat waiting to see his son for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco wasn't entirely confident he could pull this off. Sure, he talked a big game, reassured Potter a dozen times that morning that he was prepared. Still, he knew Goyle Sr. would be suspicious, looking for any sign that something in his son was off.

The pair's success now rested on Draco's shoulders, on his ability to fake being a Death Eater's son. Of course, he himself was a Death Eater's son. And he had known Goyle nearly his entire life, had spent more time with the boy than he had with his own family. If anyone could be Gregory Goyle, it was Draco Malfoy.

But, if they couldn't get the information they needed, their failure would be Draco's fault. Potter had nothing to prove, he had shown his worth to the entire magical community time and time again. But Draco did have something to prove to The Ministry, to The Death Eaters, to Potter, to his parents, and to himself.

And to Granger. For some reason, it was her face which popped up in his head more often than anyone else's. Perhaps, if he got the information for which he was searching, she would be impressed. For some reason, he wanted to impress her. For some reason, he wanted her approval. He vividly remembered her saying goodbye the night before. Now, her soft delicate voice echoed in his ears: ' _Good Luck.'_

He nodded to Potter.

Together, they entered the room.

* * *

They entered the small waiting room. Hermione, with Ron by her side. Together, they walked to the small desk at which a guard sat reading the Daily Prophet.

He looked up when he heard the door slam behind them.

"More of you lot, eh? Can't get any rest around here these days," the large man said. "Who're you here for, then?"

"Travers," Ron replied quickly.

"Alright. Have a seat. Be back in a minute," the guard said as he stood from the chair and moved slowly toward the door.

Hermione and Ron sat on the dingy chairs in the darkly lit cellar.

She was nervous. She'd barely slept the night before, her head swimming with memories of her previous meetings with Travers.

First, there was the time they had locked eyes at the Lovegood House. When she had learned of The Tale of Three Brothers, when she had refused to believe the significance of the Deathly Hallows. It was one of the few times Hermione could remember being completely wrong. But, it was her quick thinking which had allowed Harry, Ron and herself to escape the Death Eaters grasp. Surely, Travers would remember the incident well: the time he nearly caught The Boy Who Lived.

The second meeting took place in Diagon Alley when she was masquerading as Bellatrix. She remembered well the fear she felt when he had first approached her. She had thought her cover wouldn't fool the man, and yet, it had. Again, she had proved herself cleverer than Travers.

She also remembered the way he sneered at the muggle-born begging on the street, those whose wands had been taken from them. He mocked them, "I'm a witch sir, I'm a witch. Let me prove it to you," he'd said, laughing at their expense.

Hermione knew she had proved her status. Not only was she a witch, she was the brightest and most talented witch of her generation. And she was muggle-born. She was proud of both facts.

The guard returned.

"Travers is in Room 14. This way, please," he said, holding the door open for the aurors to enter. Together, Hermione and Ron followed the guard down the narrow passage leading deeper into the prison. Hermione shivered.

She felt Ron's hand slither into her own, squeeze it lightly, and then drop it. She smiled up at him vaguely, reassuring him in return.

And then they arrived: Room 14. On the other side of the door, Travers sat, waiting to be interviewed.

* * *

Draco took the seat opposite Goyle Sr. while Potter stood leaning against the wall nearby just as they'd planned. He looked through the glass at eyes now a mirror of his own. He gulped but remained silent. He'd let Goyle Sr. take the lead.

"What did your Aunt Amira get you for your 8th birthday?" Goyle Sr. spat, looking his "son" over. A test.

Draco started to sweat. He knew Goyle had received a toy broom that year because a few days later he had broken his arm falling from it. But, he was fairly sure the broom had been a gift from his parents. And he knew Goyle's favourite treat was liquorice wands, but he also knew the Goyle's were rich, and candy wasn't an adequate present for the son of a wealthy family. A shirt? A watch? Draco hadn't a clue.

And then, as if implanted into his brain from an outside source, the answer came to him all at once, and he knew, without thinking, it was correct.

"She didn't. She died two days before my birthday," Draco spat, refusing to break eye contact. He attempted to look angry as he knew Goyle would be irritated by this line of questioning.

"How did she die?" Goyle Sr.'s second question came faster than Draco's reply had. He knew then, the answer was indeed correct.

"Killed by an auror – Moody," Draco said, disdain obvious in his voice. He threw Potter a mock-indignant glance.

Inside, Draco grimaced. Just as Potter and his friends had been raised to believe Death Eaters were the scum of the Earth, Goyle had been raised to believe the Ministry was scum. Death Eaters killed to achieve Voldemort's vision of a magical-run world; aurors killed to achieve justice. Still, both killed. Just as Goyle Sr. had taken a life before, Potter had taken a life. Really, there was no difference. Again, Draco was reminded that everyone is just fighting for what they believe is right; everyone is looking for a voice in the darkness to guide them.

Opposite him, behind the glass, Goyle Sr. shifted in his seat. His hand went up, pulling up the sleeve on his shirt, revealing his dark mark. The mark was now little more than a gnarled, raw, red scar forever etched into his skin. Still, the skull and snake were easy to make out.

It was a power play on the Death Eaters' part. Goyle Jr. had never taken the mark. Goyle Sr. was reminding his son that nothing could surmount his loyalty to the Dark Lord, not even his family. Draco felt disgusted. His own father, for his credit, had bulked against Voldemort, choosing instead to secure the safety of his wife and son. For that, Draco was thankful. For the Dark Mark etched into his own flesh, he still hated Lucius.

His fingers, though, almost of their own accord, went to his own sleeve and rolled it up. If he had been himself sitting in the interrogation room, he would have revealed his own Dark Mark. But, the polyjuice potion had erased it. The revealing of his own mark-free skin was an act of submission: Draco would let Goyle Sr. be in control.

* * *

"Are you ready?" Ron asked, moving towards the door to the interrogation room.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Hermione sighed. She willed herself to exude the confidence she didn't feel.

Inside the interrogation room, Hermione saw Travers sitting on a small chair behind a sheet of thick glass. His dark brown eyes glared at them. The aurors took their seats across from him.

He was thinner than she remember, his cheeks hollow. His hair was ratty, braided on one side of his head. His beard was long and straggly, tinged with grey. Hermione could smell his body odor through the glass.

"Mr. Travers," Hermione began, "we are here on behalf of the Ministry to ask you some questions regarding your knowledge of the location of Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange. If you answer these questions honestly, your life term in Azkaban will be remanded for a lesser sentence."

"I don't know anything about the location of the Lestranges, Miss. Granger. I barely spoke to the brothers," Travers replied quickly in a calm, even voice.

Hermione knew the man was vicious, vicious and intelligent. Not unlike another man she was beginning to get to know. A man who had, for some reason, infiltrated her dreams the night before. ' _Focus, stop thinking about Malfoy'_ Hermione said to herself.

"Mr. Travers, we at the Ministry have reason to believe you do know of the location of the Lestranges. We understand all of the Death Eaters had an escape plan following the Battle of Hogwarts. Bellatrix devised the plan, and certainly, you spoke to her," Hermione replied. She too kept her voice calm and even, respectful and professional.

"Miss. Granger, I assure you I knew nothing of any plan. If I had, I would hardly be sitting in a cell in Azkaban, right?" Travers raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Travers, you were injured during the Battle of Hogwarts. Surely that injury prevented you from escape, not the lack of knowledge of a plan."

"False, my injury merely prevented me from using my leg. I was unable to escape because I did not know there was an escape plan, Miss. Granger. Must I repeat myself again? Are you daft?" Travers replied.

"Well, Mr. Travers, say you had escaped," Hermione watched Travers roll his eyes, "would you have had any intention to continue fighting Harry Potter, despite the death of Voldemort?"

"Miss. Granger, it is foolish to play a game of what-ifs. I paid no attention to what would happen _if_ the Dark Lord was killed. I planned for his victory."

"So, you're telling me that no Death Eaters ever even considered the possibility of Voldemort's defeat?"

"No, Miss. Granger, listen carefully. I personally did not plan for his defeat. I haven't a clue what anyone else would have done."

"Mr. Travers, you're telling me that you had no plans for what to do if you escaped Azkaban and Voldemort was killed? You're telling me he never told you what you should do in the event of his death?"

"The Dark Lord believed himself to be immortal Miss. Granger, believed himself to be too powerful for death. He did not consider the possibility of his own ruin."

"But you, Mr. Travers, you are not immortal. Surely you believed there was a possibility of your own death."

"Obviously Miss. Granger, when I took the mark, I knew I would die for my Lord. I had no qualms about it."

"But now you do?" Hermione questioned.

"No, Miss. Granger, I do not regret my service to my Lord, if that is what you are asking."

"But you regret getting caught after the final battle?" Hermione questioned.

"Obviously, Miss. Granger. Who would wish for a life in this hell?"

"So, you had a vision for a future if you hadn't been caught?"

"Miss. Granger, I do not like to repeat myself, I know nothing of any plan. I myself did not have a plan. Are we through here? You're wasting my time, mudblood" Travers stated.

"As if you've got somewhere better to be," Hermione heard Ron mumble from beside her. Hermione had told him before they entered the interview room that he wasn't to defend her if the Travers used derogatory words towards her. She had also advised him to stay as quiet as possible, not because she had no faith in his interviewing abilities, but because she herself had a plan.

"Ah, Weasley does have a voice. I was beginning to think you'd had your tongue ripped out, blood-traitor," Travers now focused his attention on Ron. Hermione could tell he expected Ron to retaliate.

Yet, Ron stayed silent.

"We are not through Mr. Travers," Hermione said, answering the question he had asked moments before. Her voice remained calm, "We've just begun."

* * *

Draco was tired. Hours after the interview had begun, he had still not convinced Goyle Sr. to help his son by providing information about the plan.

"Father, please. They're going to kill me," Draco as Goyle Jr. pleaded. He had reduced himself to begging.

"Boy, pick yourself up. You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out. I won't betray my colleagues on your behalf," Goyle Sr. said, dismissing his son's pleads for assistance. They were repeating themselves by now.

"That's enough for today," Draco heard Potter's loud, authoritative voice from across the room. Draco understood, they were out of time, the polyjuice potion would be wearing off soon.

They left Azkaban quickly after leaving the interrogation room, disappointed their plan had not yet succeeded.

* * *

Hermione was ready to leave. It had been hours since the interview had begun, hours of false nicety and unbearable politeness. She and Travers had gone back and forth a hundred times, Ron staying silent at her side.

"Mr. Travers, I've had quite enough of your insolence for one day," she said, staring at the dead eyes of the Death Eater on the opposite side of the glass. She turned to Ron, "Mr. Weasley, I think we should be leaving."

Ron grumbled his reply, standing up from his chair and moving to hold the door open for Hermione.

"Goodbye Miss. Granger, Mr. Weasley," She heard Travers say as they exited the room, disgust and confidence transparent in his voice.

"Ugh!" Hermione exclaimed once they were out of Travers' ear shot, "I hate him! I hate him! He thinks he's so smart, so pompous, I can't wait to break him."

"Blimey that was exhausting," Ron replied.

Together, they exited Interrogation Room 14, walked back down the hallway towards the small waiting room in which they had sat hours before. Hermione made sure to thank the guard for his patience with the Ministry before her and Ron apparated back to the Auror Office.

* * *

They were sitting in Potter's cubical. Draco watched as Potter, leaning back in his chair against the wall, tossed a golden snitch repetitively into the air above his head.

Draco fidgeted. He wanted a cigarette. He wanted to eat. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted to pet Sappho, tell her about his shitty day. He wanted to change out of his horrible clothes. Really, he wanted to be anywhere but in Potter's cubical. But, he knew he had to say to help amend their interrogation technique.

Just as Draco was about to excuse himself to sneak outside, he saw Granger and Weasley step out of the elevator and walk towards Weasley's cubical just opposite Potter's. While Weasley took a seat inside, Granger sat on the floor in the hallway, leaning back against Weasley's cubical wall, feet outstretched towards Draco and Potter.

"Tough day?" Potter asked as he put the golden snitch back onto his desk.

"He's fucking vile, Travers' is. Thinks he's so bloody damn smart," Weasley replied, a scorn on his face. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles indicating his lack of sleep. Eyeing Granger, Draco noticed she too looked exhausted, weary.

Draco couldn't agree more with Weasley's comment, but he knew enough not to say so aloud. Draco knew Travers' to be a conceited arse who always sucked up to the Dark Lord.

"He wouldn't tell us a thing," Granger added. Draco could hear the melancholy in her voice. Of course Miss. Know-it-all wasn't used to failing.

"Have you got an idea to make him talk?" Potter asked.

"Yes. We'll start to implement it tomorrow. I don't like it, but hopefully it will work," Hermione replied.

"What are you wearing Malfoy? What is this, fourth year? I didn't know you owned anything that wasn't black," Draco was still looking at Granger's face when he heard the words spill from Weasley's mouth. He turned to him with a sneer.

"I didn't know you owned anything, Weasley. What, with your family being so poor," Draco snapped back. After retorting, he looked back at Granger and immediately regretted what he had said. She looked so disappointed in him.

 _Fuck,_ Draco cursed himself under his breath, lowing his eyes in shame. Silence fell. _Say something, idiot._

"Look. Sorry, Weasley. It's been a rough day," Draco finally apologized, but as he did he looked at Granger's face, not Weasley's. The apology wasn't for his remark about the latter's family, but for Granger, because he had upset her.

"What happened?" She asked back, eyes glued to his face as his were to hers.

"Our plan isn't working. We had Malfoy take polyjuice potion and talk to Goyle Sr. as his son. We told him Goyle was up for the kiss for violating his probation. We thought he would be able to convince his father to talk. But he wouldn't talk," Potter answered for Draco.

"Gregory was sentenced to the kiss? I didn't think…" Granger's voice trailed off as her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

Draco was in awe. She, who had been tormented by Greg throughout their childhood, she, who had been called filthy names by him time and time again, she, who had been nearly been killed by him, she had more compassion for her enemy than he'd ever felt for anyone before.

"No, we lied, Granger," the words escaped Draco's lips more harshly than he intended.

"The heartless bastard doesn't care at all about his son," Potter said bitterly, "my mum died for me. He won't even talk for his son. It's heartless and cowardly."

"What about _his_ mum?" Granger's voice was soft, contemplative.

"What about her?" Draco asked before Potter had the chance.

"Well, would she help her son? Or rather, would she be able to convince Goyle Sr. to talk to help their son? You know what they say about a mother's love…" Hermione's faraway eye's looked desperately sad to Draco, but he couldn't fathom why. He knew her mum was alive, he'd read all about her "ingenious plan" in the Daily Prophet.

Draco thought about the question: could she convince Goyle Sr. to save his son? He wasn't sure the answer was "yes", but also wasn't so sure the answer was "no".

He remembered Mrs. Goyle well, having spent more time with her as a child than he had with his own mother. She was always a shadow of her husband: seen but not heard, agreed but had no opinions of her own. She was cold, but not cold and calculated like his own mother. Instead, she acted like nothing in the world could affect her except the disapproving glare of her husband. Even in those moments when she was free from her Husband's glare, she was quiet, as if the sound of her own voice hurt her ears. She was a woman trapped in a life she had not asked for.

Draco knew she had not asked to be a Death Eater's wife - an arranged marriage; her behavior when Goyle Sr. wasn't around gave her away. She would bring homemade cookies out to yard when Draco and Goyle played, she allowed them to buy all the liquorice wands they wanted in Diagon Alley, and allowed them roam around the forest beyond the Goyle estate. One time, when he was grown, she pulled Draco aside and urged him not to take The Mark. He'd slapped her in return.

Still, she had saved her own son from his fate. Draco knew her actions and words were those of quiet defiance against her husband for her son. She may not be able to convince Goyle Sr. to talk, but she would probably try.

"I think so," Draco said finally, after pondering the questions for quite a while.

"Then we should bring her in!" Potter exclaimed. Draco had gotten used to this, it seemed Potter was quick to act, but rarely thought through his plans.

It was up to Draco to point out the flaws.

"Potter, I might be able to pass as Goyle in front of the father who hasn't seen him in years, but he lives with his mum, she would be able to tell if her son was an impostor."

"Right, so we just have to impersonate her. We'll need some hair," Potter replied quickly.

"You want me to impersonate Mrs. Goyle in front of her husband? That's bloody insane," Draco laughed at Potter's naiveté. For a man who had experienced beyond his own share of adventure, he still acted like a small boy when faced with a challenge.

"No, I want Hermione to," Potter replied, grinning. His face dropped when he saw Granger's face. "If she's willing to, of course."

"Absolutely not, Harry," Hermione's reply was quick, "I'm sorry, but even if I did have enough time, which I don't, I've already impersonated one Death Eater, I've no desire to impersonate another."

"She's not technically a Death Eater," Potter correctly pointed out.

"Harry, that's not the point. No. The answer is no," Hermione glared at him.

 _Impersonated a Death Eater? When? Who? What?_ Draco was confused.

Before he had a chance to ask, Granger spoke again: "I think you should go talk to her. Don't tell her your plan, just tell her Gregory has been arrested, and the Ministry needs her help. If she's got a heart, she'll at least go see Goyle in Azkaban."

"I think it's worth a shot," Potter said, nodding along with Granger's words. He nodded towards Draco too as if to ask whether he agreed. It was nice that Potter thought them partners enough to ask his permission to alter the plan.

"Talk to him as Goyle? As I said, I don't think I can impersonate him in front of his mother," Draco repeated.

"No, just talk to her as aurors. We'll show her a picture of Goyle in a cell if we have to convince her," Potter replied.

"And if she won't go?"

"We erase her memory," Potter replied instantly.

 _'Not bad, Potter, cunning, even,'_ Draco said in his head. Outwardly, he nodded. And then added: "And what will we do with the real Goyle? He lives with her, remember? Can't have him strolling in half way through the conversation."

"We'll give him the draught of living death. Lock him in broom closet for a few hours," Potter answered.

"And where will we get it? The Ministry doesn't keep it in stock, we'd have to special order it. It could take weeks," Draco commented.

"I'll brew it," Hermione offered. Potter and Draco's heads snapped towards her in unison.

"You sure, Hermione?" Potter asked.

"Of course, Harry. It only takes an hour or so, I can do it tonight before bed," Hermione explained, and then added, "I'll owl you the potion later tonight, once it's brewed."

"That's brilliant Hermione, really. Thank you so much."

"It's no trouble," Hermione replied graciously, "although I should get going. I'll have to stop by the Apothecary on my way home. I don't have all the ingredients."

"I'll go with you," Weasley nearly shouted.

Draco thought vaguely about whether this was what it was like to have real friends, friends who would stay up late to help you, take the long route home to accompany you, friends who cared for you. He'd never had friends that were anything but dumb and selfish. He was jealous.

"Um…" Granger hesitated, she looked to Potter as if it were he who had offered to go with her, and then, almost reluctantly, she said, "Okay, sure."

"We should leave now," Ron said, already standing from his seat. He seemed oblivious to the awkwardness in the air.

Draco wondered why Granger hadn't wanted her partner to go with her. For some reason, the idea of an ex-lovers quarrel made Draco's jealousy ease.

"Right," Hermione agreed, accepting Ron's hand which he held outstretched to help her from the floor.

"See you guys later," Hermione said, turning to wave at Draco and Potter as she headed towards the elevator. _You guys, not just Potter. You. You Draco. She'll see you later._ The second the thought ran through his head, he shook it, visibly and viscerally. He didn't know why he kept repeating her words to himself, but it was getting on his nerves.

"You alright?" Potter asked, seeing Draco shake his head.

"Yeah, didn't realize she was so smart," Draco excused himself.

"You went to school with her for six years…" Potter said questioningly.

"Right. Just didn't realize her books smarts actually came in handy."

"How'd you think I defeated Voldemort? Sure wasn't alone."

"Right," Draco repeated. He let the usual sneer settle back onto his face.

"I think it's brilliant," Potter said enthusiastically, like a little kid who was just given their first broom.

"Just might be," Draco agreed, although not with nearly as much animation.

He knew the plan was good, but he also knew it depended upon the participation of Mrs. Goyle. Tomorrow, they would attempt to persuade her to save her son's life.

* * *

"I don't trust him," Ron said as he and Hermione walked through Diagon Alley towards Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, "I think he's up to something."

"Ron, give him a chance. People change you know," Hermione replied.

"I don't know why you're always defending him, you and Harry. It's like I don't even know you."

"Listen Ron, Shacklebolt trusts him, Harry trusts him, and I've no reason not to trust him. You're just holding onto grudges."

"You've been given no reason not to trust him? C'mon Hermione, he's a bloody Death Eater for fuck's sake. That's reason enough."

Hermione sighed. She knew there would be no convincing Ron. She also wasn't entirely sure why she had so easily convinced herself that Malfoy had changed. It wasn't like he was suddenly nice. In fact, he was as arrogant, snide, and generally as unpleasant as he had always been. And yet, she felt immense pity for him: he was not the boy who had made all the wrong choices, he was the boy who was never given a choice. Like Harry, his fate had been sealed before he was old enough to fully understand the burden on his shoulders.

She also admired him: he was smarter than he appeared and more ready to prove himself than even Harry had been throughout their school years.

"He _was_ a Death Eater, Ron. You can't live in a world split into good people and Death Eaters. People change. Just try, at least for Harry while they're still partners. Being civil is the least you could do. He's trying," Hermione scolded Ron.

And Malfoy was, apparently, trying. Hermione could tell he constantly kept his mouth shut when a sarcastic comment was on the tip of his tongue.

Hermione saw Ron roll his eyes from the corner of hers. Again, she sighed, knowing he was too stubborn to listen to her.

"Do you want to come in with me or wait out here?" Hermione asked as they approached the shop.

"I'll wait. All those fumes give me a headache," Ron answered, halting just outside the door.

Alone, Hermione went into the small store.

"Hello dear, may I help you find something?" An elderly witch said from behind the counter at the rear of the shop.

The walls were lined to the ceiling with closely packed shelves. Each shelf had an uncountable number of little vials containing potion ingredients stacked beside each other. At the centre of shop, a series of barrels sat filled to the brim with slime or seeds.

"Yes, please," Hermione answered the witch, "I need a few items actually: infusion of wormwood, powdered root of asphodel, and 13 sopophorous beans, please. Oh, and some sloth brain."

"Draught of living death, I take it?" The witch asked as she raised her wand, pulling vials from the shelves around the shop, summing them to the counter in front of her.

"Yes."

"Tricky little potion. Looks so simple, but really, quite a challenge. Have you brewed it successfully before?" The witch asked.

Hermione watched as she raised each vial to her face, reading the label carefully with her large eyes. With one vial, labeled _Cerebellum - Bradypus Variegatus,_ the witch uncorked the container before bringing it to her nose to smell its contents.

Hermione scrunched her nose. She knew from the label this was the Sloth Brain, and knew from experience it smelled like rotten eggs.

The witch caught her look, "just making sure it's fresh, dear. I can never quite keep track of how long all these little bits have been sitting on my shelves."

"Right," Hermione agreed. And then realized she had been asked a question before. "And yes, I've brewed draught of living death before, at Hogwarts."

Hermione remembered well the first time she brewed the potion on the first day of her sixth year of classes. She had struggled. And she had become annoyed when Harry had not. She discovered later his success was due to the alternations in his textbook done by the Half Blood Prince.

"Professor Snape?" The witch questioned. Her large eyes filled with pity. It was well known now in the magical community that Snape had sacrificed his life in order to ensure Harry's safety. In fact, it was one of the first things Harry mentioned at the press conference in the days following the Battle of Hogwarts. Now, Professor Snape was viewed as a hero.

"No, I learned the potion with Professor Slughorn. I did have Professor Snape as a teacher for many years, however."

"Pity, what happened to him. I remember him coming into my shop when I first opened. Bright young man, curious eyes that one had, if not a little creepy, if you know what I mean. But a terrific potions maker, really one of the best I'd seen. I was shocked to discover what he had done for Harry Potter," The witch rambled. Clearly, she didn't know who Hermione was, that she was Harry Potter's best friend.

Still, Hermione smiled politely.

The witch then moved from behind the counter towards the center of the shop. One by one, she counted out each individual sopophorous bean from the large barrel. Hermione was growing impatient, she was exhausted.

"And thirteen. Always a good idea to buy one extra, just in case one of the little buggers won't open," the witch said, smiling at Hermione. Little did she know, the potion actually worked better with thirteen beans as opposed to twelve. She had learned this from the Half Blood Prince.

"Yes, always good to be prepared," Hermione agreed aloud.

"Well, that will be 14 sickles in all, unless there's anything else I can help you with?" The witch asked, placing each of the little vials and the sack of beans into a paper bag.

"No, thank you. That's everything. There you are," Hermione replied, counting out exact change on the counter.

"Thank you for your help," Hermione added as she turned to leave.

"My pleasure, dear. Now, happy brewing!" The witch's sweet voice carried through the shop as Hermione opened the door to the street.

"Took you bloody long enough," Ron's harshness caught her off guard. "We need to go, now."

He grabbed her by the arm and began pulling her through the busy street, through crowds of onlookers who parted before them.

"Ron!" Hermione protested, digging her heels into the cobblestone.

"No, Hermione. There isn't time to explain. We need to go, hurry up," Ron nearly shouted.

"Ron! What's happened? What's wrong? Where's Harry? RON!" Hermione yelled in protest.

A series of snapshots from her life flashed before her eyes instantaneously as dread filled her consciousness: the image of Harry lifeless in the arms of Hagrid; the image of George lying on the couch in the burrow, earless; the image of Fred on the cold, hard stone in The Great Hall; of Molly, keeled over, sobbing; of Arthur, pale from the bite of a snake; of Dumbledore, body splayed on the grass beneath his office; of Snape, tears dripping down his face as he fought for breath. She had seen so much in her short life.

Finally, she ripped her arm from Ron's firm fingers: "Ronald Weasley! You tell me right now what's happened or I am not moving an inch."

"Hermione, we don't have time. He went this way," Ron replied, reaching to grasp her arm again.

"Who? Who went this way? What are you talking about? Did you see Selwyn? Rowle?"

"No, I saw Malfoy. C'mon, he's getting away," again, Ron started moving quickly down the street towards the mouth of a dark alleyway.

"Malfoy, Ron? Malfoy!? I told you, we can trust him."

Hermione rushed to keep pace with Ron.

"No, listen Hermione. I saw him walking down the street, being dragged by somebody in a black hooded cloak. Definitely a Death Eater. They went down this alleyway."

They stood at the mouth of the alley, peering into the darkness beyond. And just as Ron said, there, Hermione saw a figure which looked very much like the Draco Malfoy she had seen just an hour before: striped green and black rugby shirt, blue jeans, white shoes, trademark fair blonde hair. At his side was a small hooded figure, nearly indecipherable in the dark.

Just as Ron called out, "Malfoy!" the pair apparated on the spot.

"Fuck! We lost him. Fuck! What do we do? Bloody hell, we need to tell Robards," Ron ranted, walking towards the spot in which the pair had just stood, as if to make sure they were in fact gone.

"Tell Robards? Ron, what are we going to tell him? We saw Malfoy apparate with someone? That's hardly a crime," Hermione said, looking around her to ensure no one was within earshot.

"What? So you're defending him now?" Ron yelled.

"Ron, no. I just think we need more information if we're going to go to the Ministry."

"More information!? I just saw a bloody Death Eater talking to another Death Eater in a dark alleyway, and I need more information before I tell the ministry!? You've gone mad, Hermione," Ron replied, marching up to stand beside her.

"Former Death Eater," Hermione pointed out, her tone softer than it had been before.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"I just think we need more information. We should tell Harry to keep an eye on him, track him if we have to. But I don't think we should go to the Ministry just yet."

"Fine. We'll do it your bloody way. Always your way, isn't that right Hermione? You can be bloody impossible sometimes. We'll tell Harry, and then, when I'm proved right, we'll tell Robards." Ron said, sneering.

Hermione hated when he got like this. Sometimes, he acted as if he still had that locket around his neck, as if he hated Hermione and Harry. Sometimes, she hated him back.

Yet, she couldn't help but think they had not seen nothing. This was Malfoy: an intelligent, cunning liar, a man who had the capacity to the fool the ministry if necessary. Hermione felt a ball of nerves and resentment build in her stomach. For some reason, she so wanted him to have changed, to be good. Why did she need him to be good? Why did she care?

* * *

A/N 2: Thanks again for reading! Hope you liked it!

More to come, soon.


	7. The Mission IV

A/N: Hi!

Thank you all for following, favouriting, and reviewing!

This chapter is relatively short, mostly because it felt like a logical place to stop.

In the next chapter, which is nearly finished and will be posted soon, Draco and Harry begin their first tracking mission. Also, Hermione and Draco experience their first intimate(ish) moment. I'm excited about it, and I hope you are too!

Thanks, as always, to JKR for her world. And thank you for reading!

* * *

Chapter 7: The Mission IV

* * *

"We need to talk."

Draco stared bleary eyed at the man standing in his doorway. He hadn't been expecting company and honestly, didn't want any.

"Potter, are you breaking up with me? And here I thought we were soul-mates," Draco joked. He held the door open for his colleague to enter.

Potter closed the door behind himself, but made no movements forwards. Instead, he stood a mere foot from the door, arms crossed over his chest, his expression serious.

"Sorry," Draco excused the joke. "What's happened?"

"Listen," Potter began, his tone was more ominous than Draco was expecting. "Ron told me he saw you with some suspicious looking cloaked person in Diagon Alley a few hours ago. If we're going to be partners, I need to know you aren't hiding anything from me. I need to know I can trust you."

"That was nothing, Potter," Draco said evenly.

While he tried to keep his annoyance hidden, he could feel it boiling within him. Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair as he walked over to the window on the wall opposite Potter. He leaned against the ledge. He was hoping the distance between the two of them would cool any animosity.

It didn't.

"Not good enough Malfoy. Who was he and why were you there?" Potter's posture hadn't changed.

Draco gritted his teeth, urging himself to remain calm. He hated being accused when he had done nothing wrong. But, he also knew he was difficult to trust. At least Potter had come to hear the truth from Draco's own mouth. At least he hadn't stalked him through Diagon Alley like the Weasel. And Granger. Apparently she didn't think he was worth trusting either. Draco's anger grew.

"Potter, it's none of your fucking business what I do when I'm not on duty. The ministry trusts me, Shacklebolt trusts me. You should too," Draco replied, the irritation creeping into his voice.

"Then how do you explain apparating from an alleyway undercover with a man in a black hooded cloak? He looked like some old friends of yours. And how do you explain the whispering and running? How do you explain trying to remain hidden? I want answers Malfoy, and I want them now. I'm prepared to report you to the Ministry," Potter shot back.

"I'm not under bloody interrogation, Potter. You have no right to come into my flat and accuse me of anything. It's my fucking business who I spend my time with. I cleared my name."

Still, Draco had not moved from his perch. This felt an all too familiar scene, the two sworn enemies standing face to face shouting.

Draco caught Sappho's head poking out from the crack created by his ajar bedroom door. She was curious about the yelling. Draco shot her a look of contempt, and she retreated inside; still listening to the argument, no doubt.

"I wasn't doing anything Potter, trust my word," Draco said again after a moment of silence had lapsed. His jaw was hurting from his clenched teeth.

"I can't," Potter said just as venomously. "Not until you tell who you were within Diagon Alley."

Draco sighed. He wanted Potter out, and he wanted him out now.

"It was a fucking girl, Potter. Okay? I was with a bloody girl."

"What's her name then?"

Draco looked up at the ceiling. "Allie. I met her a few days ago at The Three Broomsticks. Took her home, told her I didn't want to see her again the morning after. She didn't take it well, apparently."

"Why all the whispering? Why the cloak? Why apparate?" Potter's tone was easing now, slightly less aggressive.

"I pulled her into the alleyway to talk privately. She'd been stalking me, last few days it seems. She wore the cloak so I wouldn't see her. She was angry and upset; crying and yelling. I didn't want to cause a scene. She grabbed _my_ arm and apparated _me_ to her flat. It wasn't my choice."

Potter had dropped his arms to his sides now, clearly starting to believe Draco's story.

Draco had spent so much of his life lying, it felt weird now to tell Potter the truth. But it was the truth.

"Fine." Potter said finally, after a moment's thought. His voice sounded defeated, as if he was disappointed Draco had so readily complied with his demands.

"Fine?" Draco echoed.

"Fine. I believe you. But stop sulking in dark corners, it's creepy." Potter said. His shoulder's relaxed as the joke escaped his lips.

"Tell Weasley and Granger to stop fucking following me. _It's_ creepy." Draco retorted.

He walked back towards the door, with the intent of showing Potter out.

"Listen, sorry. I told them we could trust you. I had to be sure," Potter said. As he apologized, he made eye contact with Draco who stood now hardly a foot away from him. Draco could see the apology was genuine and appreciated the sentiment. He smiled slightly in return.

He moved towards the door and opened it.

Potter stood in the threshold for a moment longer, "Tomorrow morning, early. You need to owl Goyle."

"Right. Ministry at six?" Draco replied.

"Good."

Now out on the landing, Potter hesitated once again before apparating away.

"So she's your girlfriend now or what?" Potter asked.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"No. Just a shag. Still none of your fucking business, Potter."

Draco slammed the door.

A moment later he heard the pop indicating Potter had disapparated.

He whirled around to see Sappho staring at him, now sitting just outside his bedroom door. Draco swore her expression was one of pride. She was proud of him for telling the truth.

"Oh, shush you nosy bugger," He said to that cat, walking over to pick her up into his arms.

* * *

"So he's got a girlfriend?" Hermione's voice sounded more intrigued than she had intended. She had tried to pretend like she didn't care in the slightest what Draco Malfoy did in his spare time, but the growing ball of jealousy in her stomach betrayed her.

"No. He said it was just a girl he slept with. Kind of nuts. She stalked him through Diagon Alley. She was crying when you saw them," Harry explained.

They were sitting in the living room of the Burrow: Ron, angry, Hermione, apparently jealous, Harry, distracted, Ginny, distracting him, and George, nearly asleep.

"And you believed him?" Ron urged, he sat on the edge of his chair, long arms resting on his knees.

"I haven't got a reason not to believe him," Harry answered. He sat on the adjacent couch, Ginny at his side, curled into his arm.

"Are you forgetting he's a bloody death eater?!" Ron nearly yelled. He rose from his stool and began pacing the room. Hermione's eyes followed his form. "Something doesn't add up. The people I saw weren't arguing, they were whispering. And he didn't look angry."

"He said he was trying to calm her down. Makes sense he didn't look angry," Harry pointed out. His voice sounded tired.

"And what about the cloak? Why did she try to hide herself?" Ron continued, as if he hadn't heard Harry. "And where did they apparate to? And why? He's a two faced bastard if you ask me, just like he's always been."

" _She_ apparated them away, I guess back to her place. And I think she was wearing the cloak to hide from Malfoy not from you. She was stalking him, right?" Harry's voice was patient.

"I don't trust him either," Ginny added, siding with Ron. Her nose crinkled as she talked, as if merely thinking about Malfoy gave her a bad taste. "It's hard to believe someone can change so much in one year."

"Finally! Someone talking some bloody-damn sense," Ron stopped pacing to gesture animatedly towards Ginny.

"Harry, I know you want to believe Malfoy," Ginny continued, "you've always tried to see the good in people. But, I can't trust him. Not after everything he did at Hogwarts. He tried to kill Dumbledore, remember?"

"You don't have to remind me, I was the only one of us who was there. And he didn't do it, _remember?_ " Harry mocked. He had extracted himself from Ginny's embrace. Clearly, he was offended.

"You should listen to Ginny, Harry," George's voice said softly. "She's right. He can't be trusted."

Ron smiled, satisfied that his siblings were taking his side.

"Look, I appreciate you all looking out for me. But you haven't worked with Malfoy. He's come up with nearly every plan we've got. He's a good Auror. What do you think Hermione?" Harry questioned.

The room filled with silence.

"Hermione?"

"Oh, huh? Sorry, Harry. What did you say?" Hermione asked him.

She'd been in a daze. Running through her head were the images of Malfoy in the alley with the hooded figure. Though it was dark and she'd only seen them for an instant, Hermione thought the person was small enough to be a girl. And the look on Malfoy's face was one of anguish and pleading, it made sense to Hermione that Malfoy had been trying to stop a scene. And she was certain it was the hooded figure who grabbed onto Malfoy, not the other way around. It seemed to her Malfoy's story checked out.

Also running through her mind were a series of questions about this girl: what did she look like? What kind of a girl did Malfoy go for? Did he sleep around a lot?

When at last she registered her name being spoken, Hermione was imaging Malfoy walking hand-in-hand with this girl. The image slightly nauseated her.

"What do you think?" Harry asked again.

"Oh. Well, I agree with you, Harry," Hermione saw Ron throw up his arms in exasperation out of her periphery. She spoke directly to Harry, "I think we can trust him, for now, at least. If you saw the hooded person, it could have been a girl, she was small. And Malfoy did look distraught, but not angry."

"For fuck's sake," Ron walked towards the stairwell.

"Just watch your back Harry. Don't say I didn't warn you," Ron said as he ascended towards his bedroom.

Hermione knew Harry would listen to her, always the voice of reason. And she knew Ron knew this too. The argument was over for the night.

The room filled with awkward silence.

"Should I go talk to him?" Hermione asked quietly. She still avoided the harsh gazes of Ginny and George.

"No, I will," Harry said, rising from his seat to follow Ron upstairs.

* * *

Draco awoke to the soft paw of his cat Sappho swatting at his face and the sound of her muted meows. He'd just fallen asleep.

"Sappho, not now. I'm sleeping."

"Meow."

Draco turned over, pulling his pillow over his face in an attempt to dissuade Sappho's insistent pestering.

"Meow."

"Sappho, fuck off." Draco's voice wasn't angry, just sleepy.

"Meow."

Draco groaned, rolling over once again to look at the grey tabby. Once she was sure his attention was fixated upon her, Sappho jumped off the bed and strutted over to the nearby balcony door.

"Sappho, you can't go outside right now. It's fucking midnight."

"Meow."

Draco heard the cat's paw clawing at the door. When he looked over at her to indicate his seriousness, he saw two round eyes glowing in the dark.

Draco groaned again as he rose from bed, walking over to the door to open it.

The summer air was warm on his half naked body as he walked out onto his small balcony. There, an owl sat waiting patiently for his acknowledgement. Attached to the owl's leg was a small brown parcel and a note. He untied the knot, told the owl to wait, and returned to his bed. There, he read:

 _Malfoy,_

 _For what it's worth, I believe you._

 _Good luck tomorrow,_

 _Hermione Granger_

Draco read the note two more times before opening the parcel which contained Hermione's Drought of Living Death. He'd forgotten about it.

Carefully placing the vial of liquid on his nightstand, Draco read the note a few more times, holding it delicately in his long fingers.

She believed him. She trusted him.

Draco's stomach tied itself into a knot. His heart thudded loudly in his chest.

* * *

Hermione's heart thudded as she saw the owl approach, returning from its trip to Malfoy. She wasn't entirely sure why she had told Malfoy she believed him, why it felt so important to her to let him know she trusted him.

 _I should have sent the potion to Harry_ , Hermione thought. But something in her had wanted to talk to Malfoy, wanted to ease his mind.

The owl landed just inside the window she had purposefully left open. She pet its cheek before untying the note.

The reply was brief:

 _Granger,_

 _Thank you for the potion._

 _Malfoy_

Hermione's stomach dropped. Such a cold reply when she had been so warm.

She felt the disappointment mounting inside of her.

As she went to crumple up the note, the owl nipped at her finger.

"Ow," Hermione whispered, reflexively pulling her hands away from its face. The owl chirped. As it did, it continuously tilted it's head to one side, and then straightened it back again. Chirp, tilt. Chirp, tilt. Chirp, tilt. Hermione stared at it inquisitively for a moment, before finally understanding.

She turned over the parchment, and there on the back, scrawled in Malfoy's elegant handwriting, was another note. The writing was small, messier than usual, it looked as though it had been written as an afterthought, in haste.

 _It's worth more than you think Granger._

Such a simple message, so much tenderness.

As much as she tried to swallow her feelings, a small smirk creeped upon her face. Hermione's heart fluttered.

* * *

Draco followed Potter through the thick woods. He remembered them well, and the estate which lay just beyond their borders. He had spent so much time running through the thicket as a child, pretending to be a dragon, a centaur, a giant. Those were happier times, before the pressure of darkness pushed upon him from all sides. Before the war.

He and Potter walked steadily towards the house, having apparated beyond the forest's bounds. They wanted their arrival to be a surprise; they approached from behind. They were to tell Mrs. Goyle her only son had been captured. Draco's chest felt heavy.

Earlier that morning, he and Potter had met at the Ministry and reviewed Goyle's file. Draco had sent him a message at dawn, urging Goyle to meet him in a diner near Diagon Alley. Urgent business, come ASAP, the note had read. As expected, Goyle had responded immediately. After all this time, Draco was impressed to see his old friend was still loyal.

Draco bought Goyle a coffee into which he slipped Hermione's Drought of Living Death. Then, he'd asked him to have a cigarette at the back of the shop, near the dumpster. We need privacy, he'd said. There, Potter had waited silently under the invisibility cloak.

Within minutes, Goyle's body sank to the ground. After placing the invisibility cloak on Goyle's large frame, Potter and Draco carefully levitated Goyle's body through the still abandoned streets of Diagon Alley.

They headed towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

The night before, Potter had convinced George Weasley to let the Aurors keep the man's body in the storeroom in the basement of the shop. Here, he would lie until Draco or Potter woke him.

The plan had gone through without a hitch and with unexpected speed.

Now, the tough part began: convincing Mrs. Goyle to convince her husband to rat on his fellow Death Eater's.

Draco was anxious.

* * *

It was the second day of their investigation into the mind of Travers and Hermione was more anxious than she had been on the first. Despite Ron's assurance that he was no longer angry with her for the night before, Hermione felt tension between them.

Now, she had to spend an entire day in Azkaban with a sulky Ron and an impossibly polite Travers.

Their second interrogation began much like the first had ended: Hermione was civil and earnest, matching Travers' calm demeanour. Ron was silent and brooding.

That was until about two hours in when Ron did as Ron as apt to do: exploded in a fit of rage.

"Hermione, just tell him already! This is bloody nonsense, both of you are just rambling. Clearly he's not going to give anything up. Just tell him. I'm bloody sick of this bullshit," Ron exclaimed. He was whispering, but loudly enough for Travers to hear through the thick panel of glass separating the Aurors from the prisoner.

The intensity in Travers' eyes gave away his sudden interest in what the pair had to say.

"Ron, shut up," Hermione whispered, covering her mouth with her hand to conceal her words. "We can't tell him yet, we need to see what he's willing to say on his own."

Despite her efforts, Hermione could tell Travers had heard her.

"He's not going to say anything, Hermione. You aren't doing a good enough job," Ron countered.

"I'm not doing a good enough job, Ronald!? You're not doing anything, just sitting there! If you think you can do better, you do it. I don't see you trying at all," Hermione whisper-yelled. Her voice was growing more and more frustrated, louder and louder as she spoke.

"You haven't let me try!" Ron's voice was nearly screaming. "Walking in here like you're the only one who knows how to do anything."

"Fine. I'm done," Hermione snapped.

She turned her body away from Ron, purposefully looking up towards the opposite corner to indicate her annoyance and her intention to ignore both Ronald Weasley and Mr. Travers.

Ron began to talk quickly: "Travers we know your plan. The Lestrange's are in South America and they're coming back to London. When they get here, they'll break you lot out of Azkaban. The plan is to continue You-Know-Who's war. The plan is the strike back and kill Harry Potter. Have I got that just about right?"

"Very good, Mr. Weasley. You've concocted a brilliant plan. If only the Death Eater's knew about it," Travers' voice remained steady. However, Hermione could see from the corner of her eye that his body has stiffened slightly.

"The Death Eater's told us you filthy swine. You think all your friend are loyal? Dolohov broke two days ago, McNair told us everything he knew," Ron spat back.

Hermione knew Ron was lying. None of the Aurors had broken their prisoners.

"Seems you know all there is to know, Mr. Weasley. Why would you need my information?" Travers asked.

Hermione perked up.

Previously, Travers had denied having any knowledge of any plan. Now, he admitted he had information. He knew something, and Hermione was determined to get it out of him.

"Mr. Travers," Hermione began, "I know you saw the symbol at the Lovegood's house. I know you know what we were investigation. I know your suspicions were confirmed when Harry Potter evaded death in The Forbidden Forest. I know you have been sitting in a cell in Azkaban devising a plan to finally defeat Harry Potter. I know you, and you alone, are privy to the dark magic necessary to once and for all kill Harry Potter."

Hermione was too intrigued by Travers' admission of knowledge to ignore him anymore. She lay her cards on the table.

"You shouldn't believe in fairy tales, Miss. Granger." Travers' voice was low and menacing, but Hermione could sense his fear.

"This no fairy tale, Mr. Travers. The elder wand, the resurrection stone, and the cloak of invisibility are real. And Harry Potter is the master of death."

* * *

"You need to convince him to tell us everything he knows."

Mrs. Goyle looked small sitting on the antique gray satin couch in her sitting room. Her frame was even frailer than Draco had remembered. She held her hands folded in her lap. She avoided eye-contact. As Potter explained her role in saving her son, and Draco looked on from under the invisibility cloak, Mrs. Goyle shook her head from side to side. Denial.

Her eyes were wet with tears, her mouth slightly open as she grasped for breath through deep sobs. Draco's heart felt broken. This woman had lost everything, her husband and now her son. He wanted to reach out and hug her, tell her he was sorry, tell her it was going to be okay. It was one of the first times in his life that he had felt such immense sympathy, had felt the need to comfort.

"I can't. I can't. I can't do that. I don't know how. I don't know how to do that," Mrs. Goyle's high pitched voice caught repeatedly in her throat as she choked out her refusal.

They had arrived at the Goyle estate an hour earlier. First, Potter had shown Mrs. Goyle the picture they had taken of her son in the dark basement of the joke shop, his motionless body propped up against the cinderblock wall. It looked exactly like a cell in the Ministry.

Next, they had explained to her why he had been arrested and what the punishment was likely to be. The second Potter had said kiss, Mrs. Goyle began to sob.

Patiently, Potter had waited for her to finish before continuing talk. It was over 30 minutes before her cries ceased enough for her to listen to his pleads.

"You can. I know you can," Potter encouraged.

"You don't know Greg. Greg will never listen to me," Mrs. Goyle kept shaking her head. "I want to talk to my son, I need to see my son."

"We can't allow you to see Gregory before the trial Mrs. Goyle. But, we can escort your to Azkaban. If you can convince your husband to tell us what he knows, you will save your son." Potter's voice was gentle but determined.

Mrs. Goyle broke down into tears once again, likely at the impossibility of the task before her. Draco didn't blame her. He knew Mr. Goyle was a stubborn man, a wicked man.

"Mrs. Goyle, why didn't Gregory ever take the mark? Like his father?" Potter asked out of nowhere. _Hardly the time for curiosity_ , Draco thought.

"I wouldn't allow it."

For the first time during the conversation, Mrs. Goyle's voice raised above a whisper, her back straightened, and she stared steadily into Potter's eyes.

"I would not allow my son to be put in harm's way. I told Greg it was me or the mark, I would take my son and leave if he forced him to take the mark. I nearly had to. He believed me though. We compromised. We said once Gregory turned seventeen, it was his choice. Thank merlin he never joined. Me or the mark, I said. I would never allow it."

The second she stopped talking, Mrs. Goyle's body sank back into the sofa. Despite the glare she gave Potter throughout her speech, she once again resumed concentration on the carpet below her feet.

"See? Do you see, Mrs. Goyle? You can stand up to Greg. I know you can, you've done it before. And now, Gregory is in harm's way again, and once again, you can save him. Please, Mrs. Goyle," Potter urged.

Draco now understood Potter's question. In a Ministry interview after the war, Goyle had made mention of his mother's insistence that he not officially join the Death Eaters. Potter had remembered this fact, and had used it to his advantage.

 _He's damn good,_ Malfoy thought.

Mrs. Goyle's demeanour seemed to change slightly, like she too was remembering that she had saved her son before.

"Mrs. Goyle, please," Potter repeated, "I went to school with Gregory. I don't want to see him kissed. I don't want to be the reason you lose your son. I need your help, Gregory needs your help. Please Mrs. Goyle, for your son." Potter's voice dripped with sincerity.

"Alright," The word was so quiet it was nearly impossible to hear.

"Pardon me? What did you say?" Potter asked, leaning forwards to catch her words.

"I said, alright. I can't promise you anything, but I'll try. For Gregory."

Draco saw Potter expel the breath he had apparently been holding. The plan had worked. Now, like Mrs. Goyle, Draco felt hope.

* * *

Hermione felt hopeful as they exited the interrogation room. It had been a short interview, ending abruptly after Hermione had explained to Travers exactly what they knew. Still, the Death Eater had refused to tell them anything about his plan to defeat Harry Potter.

Despite his reluctance to talk, Hermione could tell Travers was frightened. That fear was all she'd wanted.

"You were brilliant," Hermione said to Ron once the door to the interrogation room had slammed shut behind them.

Ron smirked. "Always the tone of surprise," he muttered under his breath.

"Really," Hermione emphasized, "I totally thought you were actually really angry with me. Travers thought so too."

"You were good too," Ron complimented, "Coming up with that bit about The Deathly Hallows. Telling him you thought he was powerful enough to defeat them. Bloody insane, but good."

"Your explanation of the plan was good too. And telling him McNair and Dolohov had told us about it. You could tell he was upset when he heard that."

Truthfully, Hermione hadn't a clue what the Death Eater's plan was: she didn't know where the Lestrange's were; nor when they were going to be back in London. She didn't know if they'd planned for a mass-breakout, or if they planned to kill Harry Potter.

She did, however, know that _her_ plan had worked: Travers had believed their mock anger, believed they knew more than they did, and believed he was smarter than them.

The interview had been successful.

* * *

"Well that was successful," Draco remarked as he and Potter walked back through the woods after meeting with Mrs. Goyle. After she'd agreed to help, Potter had explained to Mrs. Goyle that he would return in two days' time. Together, the Auror and the Death Eater's wife would go to Azkaban, wherein she would attempt to convince her husband to talk.

"Right. It was good," Potter agreed. He walked a few paces in front of Draco.

"You did well, reminding her about the mark," Draco complimented. "He was angry about that. Especially after I joined."

Draco realized then he was beginning to feel more at ease around Potter.

"Thanks," Potter acknowledged, "was she always like that? So meek?"

"Mostly, yeah. She was good to me though. When we were younger."

The air in the woods was hot and heavy, indicating oncoming rain. Draco loved that smell, moss and dirt. It made him feel nostalgic.

"Why did you take the mark?"

Potter's question caught Draco off guard. No one had asked him that in a long time. Really, no one had asked him that ever.

"I didn't really have a choice. Father made me, Mother agreed," Draco's voice sounded sad to his own ears.

Subconsciously, his hand lifted and rubbed the mark on his arm. The conversation felt intimate. Draco felt awkward.

"We all have a choice, Malfoy. It's our choices that show who we really are."

"I suppose I was a coward then," Draco admitted. The usual sarcasm in his voice had dropped away, replaced with rare earnestness.

He could have said no, could have run away, could have hidden from the Dark Lord. But if he had done so, he would have been forfeiting his life. At the time, Draco's biggest fear was death. Now, it seemed a long-lost friend, one with whom he should have ventured long ago. It wasn't so much that he wanted to die; he just wanted to escape himself.

Potter was silent.

Draco listened to the birds chirping in the branches above, the rustle of the leaves, the fall of their footsteps, quiet and slow on the soil below.

* * *

A/N 2: On that somewhat somber note, I'll end this chapter.

Hopefully you liked it! Thank you again for reading. More to come, soon.


	8. The Mission V

A/N: Thank you for reading!

This chapter is a little fluffy. I amped up the Draco/Hermione relationship but didn't manage to move the plot forwards much. Sorry about that, hopefully you still enjoy it!

Thank you to everyone who has favourited, followed and/or reviewed! You're great, especially those who review!

And thanks to JKR for HP.

* * *

Chapter 8: The Mission V

* * *

 _Hermione was aware of his body above hers, his strong arms anchored to the bed beside her head, holding his weight._

 _They were naked. They were in his bed. She'd not been there for a long time, but remembered instantly the smell, his smell: Ron._

 _His red bangs dangled in front of his eyes. His facial expression, serious and determined._

 _And then, inexplicably, the forms around her began to shift: the wooden walls smoothed and darkened, the patchwork red blanket atop them became one of smooth, dark velvet, the sun outside the window dawned, signalling a new day had come._

 _Still, their bodies remained pressed together, sweaty, uninterrupted. Hermione closed her eyes._

 _When once again she opened them, she saw the man above her had, like her surroundings, changed in form: his eyes had gone from shining green to a deep mysterious steel blue; his hair had lightened, lengthened; his nose had elongated, his frame thinned._

 _Although her heart began to race when she recognized the new man hovering now inches from her face, she didn't panic as she'd thought she might._

 _She watched him wistfully: his playful smirk, his laughing eyes, his lips so close to hers._

 _Just as Malfoy bent down to kiss her,_ Hermione awoke.

* * *

Draco awoke in his bed earlier than he had intended. It was his first day of tracking and he hadn't a clue what was in store for him.

"Meow," Sappho said good morning.

Images of his dream last night ran through his head as he walked absentmindedly through his flat making coffee, preparing breakfast, occasionally stopping to rub the cat's cheek.

She'd been in his dream. Again. She seemed to have a recurring role in his mind now, popping up when he least expected and seldom saying more than a few lines. Always though, she gave him that look

Draco could picture it so clearly: the shine of her eyes, intent and intelligent, loving and empathetic all at once; her pursed lips straining the smile threatening to break out across her face; her delicate cheekbones dotted with freckles…

Draco shook his head, once, twice, trying to erase the image of Granger's face as if it were etched into his skull.

He knew this feeling well enough by now to know it was not one he could easily suppress. A crush.

He smiled as if he had a secret bursting from the seams.

* * *

When Hermione saw him a mere hour after having awoken from her dream, she blushed deeply. She was embarrassed by the images her unconscious mind had conjured: a naked Malfoy, on top of her. More so, she was dazed by dream-Hermione's perception of the events. Dream-Hermione had not been disgusted or fearful but lustful. Waking-Hermione avoided eye-contact with Malfoy as he walked into the auror's dining hall to get a cup of coffee.

She was sitting on a bench with Harry when he'd arrived. He joined them at the table.

"Morning Malfoy," Harry said, sipping his coffee.

Malfoy grunted.

"Good to see you to," Potter joked.

"You're as cheerful as Ron in the morning," Hermione commented. It was said mostly for Harry, but Hermione could see the sneer on Malfoy's face at the mention of Ron's name.

* * *

"Do we know where Jugson is?" Draco addressed only Potter.

Like his feeling of lust, Draco knew this one too: jealousy. The moment Granger had mentioned Weasley's name he could feel it churning in his gut.

He noticed Granger hadn't looked at him once since he'd entered the room. Instead, she chose to inspect closely the cup of coffee in front of her on the table. Still, she had that little smirk on her face and it melted him.

"Not yet," Potter answered him, "we're waiting for Fredericks and Zhang to get in. They were tracking Jugson yesterday. Should have some information for us."

Draco nodded.

He remembered Jugson relatively well from his days a Death Eater. The man was slow witted, quick to act but seldom a thinker. He was often a part of Voldemort's plans: the muscle to assist the brains. Draco had barely spoken to him, but Lucius talked of him frequently, detailing Jugson's mishaps with disdain.

"Who are you tracking today?" Potter asked Granger. She looked up, still avoiding Draco's gaze.

"We have Rowle," Granger answered.

Draco heard the shuffle of feet behind him, the sound of voices echoing in the corridor just beyond the room. When he turned to look, he saw Zhang, Fredericks and the Weasel enter.

* * *

"Hey," Ron said, sitting himself down beside Hermione, across from Harry, as far away from Malfoy as he could get.

"Morning," Hermione replied cheerfully. Ron grimaced.

"You lot ready for tracking today?" Fredericks asked, hovering above the group with Zhang at his side.

"Ready as can be," Harry answered for them. "Where's Jugson?"

"He's been staying with Rowle at the house lately. Big house out in the suburbs. They don't leave much," Zhang answered.

"You've just been camping outside then?" Harry questioned.

"We have a spot near the front door behind the hedge," Fredericks answered.

Hermione nodded, she'd been there.

"Use the shed in the yard to watch the back door. They walk through the garden to apparate sometimes," Zhang added.

"Concealment charms?" Malfoy questioned.

Zhang nodded, "on the hedge. The shed is covered."

"We'll apparate you there," Fredericks offered.

"Good," Harry agreed, rising from the table to shake his fellow auror's hand. Hermione watched Malfoy stand as well, nodding his head but keeping his hands to himself.

"You two come with, you'll be watching the house today too," Fredericks added, nodding his head in Hermione and Ron's direction.

"Great," Ron's voice sounded anything but pleased. They rose from the table to follow the older aurors out.

As they did, Hermione looked from Ron to Malfoy. They were staring each other down, each suspicious of and angry with the other. She couldn't imagine spending the entire day with the two of them. Their contempt for each other was plain, and Hermione sensed it was only a matter of time before it became a full on brawl.

Hermione looked to Harry who shared the same apprehensive expression as her. They nodded at each other, a silent agreement to keep the two amicable.

* * *

When they arrived at the large suburban house, Draco took a moment to scan his surroundings.

They were on a quiet, tree lined street, barren except for a few children playing hop-scotch down the block. Rowle's estate was a large, newly made house with a neat garden out front. Two long hedges formed an aisle leading to the front door on the right side of the façade. Draco wondered what had happened to the muggles who had surely owned the place. He knew it was nothing good.

The aurors had apparated to the far side of one hedge, a charmed spot in which they were well covered and from which could easily see their environs. A tall wooden fence stood behind them.

Quickly following their arrival, Fredericks and Zhang left the group. They had an appointment with a prisoner in Azkaban.

"Alright, Malfoy and I will take the back," Potter said, setting up the plan for the day.

"I think we should split up," the voice was Granger's. She bit her lip as she peered around the small circle from one face to another.

Draco wasn't alone in thinking her idea was absurd.

"Hermione, literally the only rule we've got to follow is that we're not to leave our partners," Weasley said, his tone accusatory.

Granger rolled her eyes, "Honestly Ron, obviously I know that. But it's hardly splitting up if we're with another auror. The rule is in place to ensure we don't work alone. If we split into different partner groups, we're not alone, are we?"

"I think it's a good idea," Potter's voice was firm, "We're tracking Jugson, so we should always have an eye on Jugson. If he comes out the front, one of us should be here. If he goes out the back, one of us should be there. It makes sense, if you ask me."

"Fine by me," Draco added. He had a feeling this was Granger's scheme to get he and the Weasel to spend more time together, work out their differences and although he had agreed, he was not happy.

"Ron and I will stay up here, you and Malfoy go to the shed," Potter divvied up the aurors. Draco felt a small smile form on his face.

"Good with you, Granger?" Draco asked. She seemed quite alarmed when Potter had decided they ought to be partners for the day. Like Draco, she was probably thinking being trapped in a dark shed together.

Granger nodded her assent. Still, her eyes looked around wildly, as if she was trying to come up with a reason as to why she and Draco shouldn't work together. Was she disappointed? Angry? Weary? Scared?

"You sure?" Draco asked again.

"Yes," Granger said finally, her voice sounded more confident than her face looked.

* * *

Hermione wasn't entirely pleased. When she'd suggested splitting up, she'd envisioned her and Harry spending the day together, not her and Malfoy. She thought the extra time spent together might create the semblance of a bond between Ron and Malfoy. Harry, clearly, was more cautious of conflict.

She looked to Malfoy, trying to read his facial expression, his smirk.

Malfoy was always closely guarded; if he wasn't sneering, his face was blank, occluding the emotions running deep within. Hermione watched him fidget: he bit into a nail, ran his hands through his hair, adjusted the bag on his shoulder. If Hermione didn't know better, she'd have said he was nervous. But, Malfoy was cocky, sure of himself. Surely he wouldn't be apprehensive.

IIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIII IIII III I I

Draco was apprehensive. His insides squirmed as he mentally prepared himself for spending an afternoon alone with Granger in a dark, confined space.

"Ron, do you have the invisibility cloak?" Granger asked.

Weasley grunted in reply. Draco watched as he reached into the sack on his hip to extract the blanket.

Granger took the cloak from Weasley and hauled it over her shoulders. Only her little head poked out, a floating face surrounded by the late summer's sun.

"Come on Malfoy," she urged, "we should cover ourselves to walk to the back." Granger held the blanket out with her arm to welcome Draco underneath.

He moved closer, hunching himself down to Granger's height, fitting in the nook created by her outstretched arm. She pulled the blanket over their heads.

From under the blanket, Draco saw Weasley's face was five shades redder than usual. His fists were clenched, his jaw locked.

"Good luck," Granger said simply, before turning on the spot, away from the angry Weasel.

Together, the pair walked towards the back garden, the wall of the house on one side, the wooden fence on the other.

The shed was in the far back corner, the door left slightly ajar.

They walked in silence.

* * *

Malfoy broke the silence.

The shed was dark, the only light coming from the partially open door and the spaces between the planks of wood which made the walls.

Hermione and Malfoy sat closely on the boxes piled up within.

From where she sat, Hermione had a perfect view of the back door of the house. She knew Malfoy had a perfect view of the rest of the yard. Both peaked out their respective peep holes.

"How did the interview go yesterday?" Malfoy whispered. His voice was quiet, cracking at the edges.

"Well, mostly. I don't like Travers much," Hermione was equally quiet.

"I wouldn't have thought you liked any of the Death Eaters," came Malfoy's reply through the darkness.

Hermione glanced at him briefly. In the dim light of the shed, his hair glowed, a shining halo surrounding his pointy features. His black long sleeve shirt and jeans were in stark contrast to the fairness of his skin.

"I don't," Hermione's tone was soft, "although one of them is starting to grow on me."

 _Why did I just say that?_ Hermione asked herself the moment the sentence exited her lips.

* * *

Draco watched her blush, her cheeks ever so slightly reddening after she delivered the compliment. She smirked that little smirk, the one that got under his skin and burrowed there. Her nose crinkled when she smiled.

"I never liked Travers. Very pompous," Draco commented.

"Sounds like someone else I know," Granger replied, her voice was light, joking.

"Travers thinks he know everything," She added, "I'm trying to show we know more."

Granger, the know-it-all, defiant, spunky.

"How was Goyle's mother?" Granger asked.

"It went alright, Potter was good," Draco answered. "It as surreal being back there. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger."

"Was she pleased to see you?"

"I stayed hidden. Invisibility cloak. I haven't revealed myself to Goyle either. Most of the Death Eaters would rip my throat out if they saw me. You know, betraying the Dark Lord and all."

Draco silently chastised himself for referring to Voldemort like that. He saw Granger wince when he had said those words. The Dark Lord.

* * *

When she'd heard Malfoy refer to Voldemort as the Dark Lord, Hermione was quickly reminded just who the man sitting before her was: a former Death Eater, complete with the mark.

"Can I see it?" Hermione asked slowly.

She was unsure about whether such a question was out of bounds for Malfoy. He kept it covered constantly. Even when they had been doing drills in the courtyard in the august sun, he wore a long sleeved shirt, sweating through the fabric.

"Why?" He didn't sound offended, but exasperated.

"I've just never seen it," Hermione's reply was meek.

"This isn't exactly the place, Granger. It's too dark anyway," coldness crept into Malfoy's voice.

Hermione was disappointed. Not disappointed that she couldn't see the mark, but that his easy mood had changed abruptly. She made a mental note not to ask him questions about his past again.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be, Granger," still cold. "You don't need to see it to know what I did. I know you know. I can show you some other time," Malfoy added, his voice softening with every word.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. A day in the dark with a moody Malfoy didn't seem fun.

* * *

"I've got to piss."

It was a few hours after they had gotten comfortable inside the shed and Draco really had to piss.

He had been surprised by how much he'd enjoyed Granger's company. She was easy to talk to, easy to joke with. They had been reminiscing about various classes at Hogwarts, Professors they both disliked, or liked, ghosts they found ghastly and paintings that taunted them.

As sorry as he was to interrupt the conversation, Draco really had to piss.

"Hold it, Malfoy," Draco saw Granger roll her eyes.

"I can't. I drank too much coffee this morning."

"Well, you can't go now. So, you'll have to hold it."

Draco ignored her. He reached for the invisibility cloak on the floor between them and began to lift it over his head.

"What do you think you're doing?" Granger whisper-yelled, clearly alarmed.

"I told you, I've got to piss. Either I go in here, or I go out there. Your choice."

"Ugh," she breathed audibly.

Draco got up to move.

'If you pee on that cloak Malfoy, I'm going to livid," Granger's voice warned quietly as he began to walk to the door of the shed.

"I'll be careful."

Draco poked his now invisible head out of the shed before exiting, ensuring the coast was clear. He scooted around the side, squishing his body between the wall of the shed and the wooden fence.

When he had safety rounded the back, he let it go, careful to pull the cloak out of the way.

Just as he was about done, _it_ caught his eye. Amidst the junk piled behind the shed, it looked as though it had been freshly put. It was mostly muggle junk: an old bicycle rusted and worn, a dozen newspapers which had clearly been rained on, a few cans of paint, a bucket. Placed atop this mass of unwanted trash was a small brown paper bag.

He was instantly curious. It didn't seem like anything special, but it looked as though it had been placed there just for him to find. When he'd set out this morning, this was exactly the object he had hoped to come across. Now, it stood beside him.

Cautiously, he picked it up, attempting to make as little noise as possible. He put the bag inside his own.

His heart began to race when he entered the shed. Granger was always perceptive.

"What was that rustling out there?" She asked instantly.

"There was a bunch of old newspapers I was standing on," Draco lied.

He would keep his find a secret, for now.

* * *

"Do you think we should leave?" Hermione asked Harry.

It was nearing dusk and the four aurors had reconvened outside of Rawle's front door.

Hermione had felt it was time they give up for the day. It appeared neither Rowle nor Jugson had any intention of leaving their lair.

"I'm bloody starving," Ron answered.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I don't see why we should stay," Harry offered as a proper answer.

"Say they leave at dark?" Malfoy probed.

Hermione bit her lip, weighing the possibilities in her head.

"Well, they've still got the trace. If we keep an eye on it throughout the night, we'll know if they leave and where they've gone to," she suggested.

"Right," Harry nodded.

Hermione looked to Ron who nodded, looked to Malfoy who looked away. He was watching the house, looking for movement behind the windows. Hermione followed his gaze. The estate looked abandoned.

"Fine," Malfoy finally agreed.

Without another word, the four aurors apparated back to the ministry.

* * *

"How'd it go today, Potter?" Robards sat alone at one of the long tables in the auror's dining hall. He had been inspecting some paperwork when the four had entered.

"Good, sir. Well, not exactly good. Rowle and Jugson didn't do anything," Potter explained.

"As expected. They haven't left that damned house in days," Robards replied. "Your interview, Granger?"

"It's going pretty well, sir. We think we may have gotten somewhere yesterday. We'll have to wait and see." Granger's voice sounded sure of itself.

"Good," Robards replied in his usual halting tone. The four aurors stood before him shoulder to shoulder, soldiers reporting to their commander.

"Malfoy, your interview?" Robards continued.

"Good. Potter and I are making progress," Draco said succinctly.

"Good," Robards echoed. "Weasley, you look exhausted."

"Bloody well hungry," Ron replied easily.

"Get used to it kid. You never know when you'll have time to eat with this job. You all get home now. Start early tomorrow."

The group dispersed after being dismissed. Draco went over to his desk, collecting the paperwork he would have to fill out that evening. He could see Granger had done the same.

* * *

"We're going back to the Burrow, Hermione," Harry said to her as he and Ron were preparing to leave. "Want to come?"

"No thanks, Harry. I told my mum I'd have dinner at theirs tonight," Hermione answered. It was a lie..

"Alright, see you tomorrow then." Harry said while Ron waved. Together they walked towards the elevators.

A few moments later, Malfoy stopped at her desk on his way out.

"Bye Granger," he said simply.

"Bye Malfoy."

He stood for a moment too long, as if he wanted to add something but couldn't find the words.

Finally, as he began to move away, his voice came softly: "it was good working with you today"

Hermione stifled a smile, annoyed that her face so easily gave away her emotions.

She looked up at Malfoy whose eyes were smiling at her. She wondered if he knew what she was afraid for him to know.

"You too, Malfoy," She replied, turning her back from him.

She heard his footsteps fall softly as he walked away.

* * *

When Draco got home, he extracted the brown paper sack from the bag he had put it in earlier. He placed the package on the table in front of his couch. And then, he began to pace.

Deep down, he knew he should give the parcel to the Ministry for investigation. But, his prying tendencies prevailed. And besides, he was the Ministry now.

"Sappho, get the fuck away from that. It might be dangerous," Draco hissed in alarm, waving his arms erratically in the direction of his grey tabby to prevent her from nearing to the package. Curiosity killed the cat.

"I don't know what it is," he explained to her. "I found it at work today. It belongs to my old friends, you remember, the dangerous people."

Draco ran his hands through his hair, annoyed with himself for having yet another full conversation with the animal.

He knew he had to act; the longer the bag sat there, the more menacing it would seem.

He went to the kitchen to retrieve a washcloth. He knew he had to be careful, the contents of the package might be cursed. Draco knew all about cursed packages.

Back in the living room, he sat down on his couch beside Sappho. Cautiously, he picked up the bag. It was light. The top was folded over itself a few times, sealed insecurely.

He unrolled the bag, holding his breath. Then, once it was open, set the bag back on the table, the contents still inside. He let out his breath. _Good,_ Draco thought, _nothing's blown up._

"I guess it's time," he said to Sappho. Draco swore she nodded in reply.

Again, he picked up the bag with one hand, and with the other, cloaked in the cloth, reached in to remove the object.

* * *

Hermione was sitting on her window seat reading when the small owl arrived. She didn't recognize it: not Harry's, not Ron's, not the Weasley's.

She cleared a space beside her, allowing the owl's small feet to land. A piece of parchment was attached to the leg. After giving the owl a quick pat on the head, she removed the note. The owl waited patiently as she read:

 _Dear Granger,_

 _As much as I hate to admit it, I need your expertise._

 _Please come promptly to my flat._

 _Yours,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

Underneath the note an address was written. Hermione recognised the street name. _Muggle London?_

She read the note a few more times, surprised and suspicious. What could Malfoy possibly need her help with? Why not Harry's, his partner? Or a friend's? Or his father's?

Vaguely, she wondered whether she was walking into a trap. She tried to put the suspicion out of her head, telling herself she could trust Malfoy, she was _supposed_ to trust Malfoy. She told herself he had changed. She told herself she had changed. If she walked into trouble, she could get herself out.

Hermione read the note again, always surprised at the delicateness of Malfoy's hand writing, so unlike his stark exterior. She knew most of his poised and abrasive outward appearance was a mask hiding the man within who was at times vulnerable and remorseful, at times witty and playful, and always much more than met the eye.

Hermione gave her reply.

* * *

Draco stood on his small balcony smoking as he waited for his owl to return. He watched the lights dance on the river beyond, heard the sounds of the city of London coming to life on the streets below. Sappho sat by his side, preoccupied with a fly.

And then, he saw the owl's shape in the distance flying through the sky. By the time it had landed, Draco's stomach had tied itself in knots.

* * *

Hermione hurried to leave the flat, eager to see what Malfoy wanted. She put on a light denim jacket, her sneakers, picked up her travel bag, tied her hair in a bun, and left without hesitation.

Outside, she crossed the road and entered the small parkette adjacent to her building. She walked through quickly, looking for signs of people. There were none. Still, she went to her usual spot. It was from here she apparated, a secluded patch of grass behind the maintenance shed, shielded on all sides by trees or bush.

She appeared again just down the street from Malfoy's flat. She walked slowly down the street, looking at the buildings before was a nice part of London, just north of the river but quiet. The streets had few people on them but voices could heard rising up into the night from the main street nearby.

* * *

Inside his flat, Draco walked in circles.

After opening the package, Draco had known instantly that he was out of his element. He needed someone who knew more than him. He needed a muggle-born.

The idea of her being in his flat made him anxious. He walked around, picking up idle objects he felt didn't belong and almost always placing them exactly where he'd found them.

He'd always been neat, so mess wasn't a concern. His flat looked small now, and barren, as he considered it from Granger's perspective.

Sappho watched him wander. She heard the knock before he did.

* * *

Hermione knocked on the door, uneasiness riling inside her. She heard footsteps on the other side.

And there was Malfoy.

She scanned him up and down, looking for any sign that something might be off. He seemed apprehensive but so was she.

It was then she noticed it. Bare. Out in the open for the world to see, for her to see. Malfoy wore the same black jeans he had worn all day, but he had changed into a clean white T-shirt. Hermione couldn't peel her eyes off the mark.

"Told you I'd show you," Malfoy said, opening the door wider as if to invite her in.

Hermione took one step forwards and paused.

"It's not so bad, it's fading," she offered, looking up from the mark to meet Malfoy's dark grey-blue eyes. They looked exactly how dream-Hermione had remembered them looking.

"Ha," Malfoy snorted, "not so bad if you're into Death Eaters."

 _Did he just wink at me?_ Hermione thought. _I think he just winked at me._

Hermione took one step into the apartment, closing the door behind her.

"What do you need help with?"

"I'll show you in a sec. Do you want some tea? I was just making some tea," Malfoy rambled.

Hermione could tell he felt a little lost. She wondered whether he had company often.

His flat was small, smaller than she would have thought a Malfoy would be comfortable living in. The main room, which functioned as a sitting room, was square. The door was on one wall, the opposite wall had two large windows looking out over the courtyard below. Hermione could see the river in the distance.

There was little furniture: a light grey couch, two black leather chairs, a dark grey carpet, a glass table. A series of book shelves ran against one wall framing the door which likely lead to his bedroom. Hermione fought the urge to pursue his collection.

"Tea would be nice."

"I'll be back. Take a seat," Malfoy said, retreating to what Hermione could see was a nice modern _muggle_ kitchen just off the sitting room.

* * *

Draco walked to the kitchen. Subconsciously, he rubbed the mark on his arm as he went. He didn't know exactly why he had left it showing. He rarely wore T-shirts, even when he was his only company. But, for some reason, he felt that if he was going to get Granger to trust him, he had to be honest with her. And part of being honest with her was showing her who he was, what he'd done, what mistakes he'd made. Wearing the mark in the open was an admission of his guilt. He wanted her to know he felt guilty.

He started making the tea, allowing the time for the water to boil on the stovetop without magic. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

What exactly had he discovered and what would Granger do when she found out he hadn't told her immediately? Would she be angry? Or affraid? Would she report him?

When he went back into the living room to serve the tea, he found Granger sitting on his couch, Sappho by her side.

He watched quietly from behind as Granger pet the cat's head, occasionally rubbing her whiskers. Draco could hear Sappho purring from his distance.

"She doesn't usually take to strangers," he remarked.

"But you like me, don't you?" Draco heard her whisper to the cat. Draco couldn't contain his smile. _At least I'm not the only one who talks to cats._

He walked over the couch, placing the tray of tea on the table and then hesitated yet again. Where should he sit? Granger was on the couch, Sappho beside her. Should he sit there too? On the chair? Should he stand?

Eventually, he lowered himself to the couch, Sappho in between the two people.

"What's her name?" Granger asked gently.

"Sappho."

"Like the Greek poet," Granger replied. It wasn't a question.

Draco nodded.

* * *

Hermione was a little astounded. Here she was in Draco Malfoy's house, sitting on a nice grey couch, petting _his pet cat_ named after a Greek poet. She reminded herself once again that Malfoy was far more than met the eye.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Hermione asked again.

"Nothing," Malfoy replied.

Hermione stared at him dumbfounded. She'd come all the way over here to have tea and meet his cat? Hermione's heart began to race. It was a set up.

"I have something to show you," Malfoy added.

Hermione waited.

"Before I do, I need to explain myself a bit. I found something earlier, outside the shed, while I was, you know. I hadn't shown you straight away because I didn't know if it was dangerous. But, I put it my bag. I thought it might be important. Actually, I knew it was important. I read your report. I know I should have gone to the ministry, but I wanted to see for myself what was in it," Malfoy paused.

Hermione waited. She had a million questions: _Why had he TAKEN something dangerous with him? Why had he touched it at all? When did he read her report? Why had he bothered to read her report? What had she written? What had he found?_

"So, uh," Malfoy reached under the couch and pulled out the brown paper bag. Hermione's eyes went wide.

"That's the bag Selwyn dropped off to Rowle."

"I know. I read your report."

"When did you read it?"

"I dunno, must've been the day after you wrote it."

"What's in it? The bag, I mean."

"That's what I need your help with."

Hermione had known when she saw the bag being passed from one Death Eater to the other that it was important. She was shocked to learn Rowle had been so careless, throwing it behind his shed as if it were trash.

"You shouldn't have taken that Malfoy. It could be cursed. You could have gotten hurt. You could have been killed, or worse, fired!"

"I know," Malfoy agreed. He looked as though he was trying very hard to keep a straight face.

"Well, did you tell Harry at least?"

"No, only you," Malfoy replied.

The words lingered in the air.

* * *

Only her. She and he were the only ones who knew of Draco's discovery. He was trusting her. Trusting her more than he had allowed himself to trust anyone in recent years. Trusting her with his mark, with his secrets, with his discovery, with his job. _Trusting her with your heart,_ a voice said from inside Draco's head. He quieted it. Ignored it. Ignored the feeling of his heart like a kick-drum beating in his chest.

"Well, what's inside?" Granger asked again.

Draco took the bag from the table and once again removed the object inside. He held it in his hands.

"I'm not actually sure," he confessed.

He had studied the object for some time before admitting he needed assistance. He recognized it vaguely, knowing he had seen similar objects in muggle shops before. The farmer he lived beside in the south of France had one. He knew it talked, but he didn't know how to make it talk. He handed the device to Granger.

Draco rolled up the paper bag into a ball, tossing on the floor to distract Sappho. She took the bait, leaping from the couch to chase her prey.

With her absence, Draco was keenly aware of just how closely he and Granger were sitting.

"It's a tape recorder," Granger said.

"What?" Draco could tell she was stifling a smile, laughing at his ignorance.

"A tape recorder," she said again, slower and louder.

"I heard you Granger. I still don't know what the fuck that is," Draco explained, annoyance creeping into his voice unintentionally.

"Someone should have paid more attention in Muggle Studies," Granger joked.

Draco sneered, "That's why I called you Granger. You're the expert."

Draco realized immediately what he had said. The remark was too close for Granger. She looked away, gritted her teeth.

"I didn't mean it like that. Trust me, I don't use that word anymore. I don't believe in any of that shit. Sorry. Honestly, I need your help. I didn't know who else to ask," Draco said.

It wasn't entirely true. He could have asked Potter who had been raised by his muggle Aunt and Uncle. And he could have taken it to the Ministry for Arthur Weasley to look at. But he wanted _her_ help.

Granger seemed to accept his apology, once again angling her body towards his, her eyes looking into his own.

"A tape recorder is a device used to record audio. The cassette tape, which is inside, holds a roll of plastic which stows sounds. The tape recorder allows you to copy a message or play back a message anytime you want," Granger explained.

 _What?_

Apparently Granger read the confusion on his face, she handed the small rectangular tape recorder back to him and she tried again: "It's kind of like a Patronus. One person records a message, and another can hear it. Except with a tape recorder, you can play the message back a hundred times by pressing this button here." Granger pointed to a black button with a little triangle atop it. Beside that button was one with a white box, one with two white lines, one with a series of triangles facing one direction, one with a series of triangles facing the other. And one button with a big red circle on the face. Draco felt like he was reading a secret code.

"There's a message on this then? Why wouldn't Selwyn just talk to Rowle in person?"Draco asked. He turned it over in his hands.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Granger admitted.

"Can we listen to what they said? How do we get it to talk?" Draco asked.

"Well, it has a tape it in it, we just have to press play," Granger repeated.

Draco didn't understand what it meant to "press play".

"But if it doesn't have a tape, then there's no way to know what's been recorded on previous tapes," Granger repeated.

 _What?_ Draco felt like she was speaking a different language.

Granger reached to take the recorder from his hands, clearly knowing he hadn't understood. As she did, her fingers brushed softly against his. Draco felt a spark of electricity unlike anything he had felt before.

* * *

Hermione felt the spark rip through her body as her fingers made contact with Malfoy's. She looked up quickly, searching his face for any indication he had felt the same. He dropped her gaze.

 _Concentrate._ Hermione refocused her attention on the object in her hands.

Hermione pressed the button that opened the compartment holding the tape within.

"There's a tape in here," she said to Malfoy.

Malfoy stared at her blankly.

"So we can listen to the message," Hermione added, "if it hasn't been erased."

Hermione's heart pounded in anticipation. While she was still irked at Malfoy for not turning in the object, she knew if a message was still intact, the two aurors would be heroes among their colleagues.

Hermione looked to Malfoy as if to ask: "You ready?"

* * *

Draco inched forwards on the couch, hovering beside Granger to see more closely the recorder in her hands. As he did, his leg moved, his thigh now tight against hers. He left it there. His shoulder rested upon her shoulder. He let it. His face was mere inches from hers. He didn't move.

Draco breathed in her smell. Springtime. Old books. The air after a heavy rain had ceased.

It was then he knew he wanted all of her. This was no crush, he was falling and he was falling fast.

He looked over to her face as it watched her hands. Her eyes were dancing, her excitement transparent.

She was so close, and yet years of bullying, years of hate, years of fighting on opposite sides stood between them.

And more so, Draco's uncertainty stood between them: sure, she'd been nice to him, but did she like him? Sure, she smiled when she saw him, blushed occasionally. With any other girl, these were tell-tale signs that she was into him. With Granger, he hadn't a clue. With Granger, he would never have fucking a clue. This girl was a force to be reckoned with: strong, intelligent, caring, courageous, empathetic, empowered. So many things Draco was not.

Without thinking, he reached up to her face, his long fingers brushing her cheek softly, catching the strand of hair which had fallen from her bun. He tucked it behind her ear. His fingers lingered longer than they needed to.

* * *

Those fingers, so delicate despite the horror they had imposed on so many. The feeling of his hand on her face, her neck. Hermione couldn't breathe.

She pulled away. Turned, searched his face. Those eyes, so blue, so absorbing, those lips, so near.

She scooted backwards on the couch.

"Hermione, I'm, uh, I'm sorry," Malfoy stammered, "don't be scared. I won't hurt you," Malfoy's eyes pleaded.

Hermione. He'd said her name and it sounded like a sorrow filled melody coming from his mouth. Quiet, crackling, shamed. She watched as he too moved backwards on the couch, away from her.

 _Say something Hermione._

"No, um," she stammered too. "I'm sorry. I wasn't frightened. I'm not afraid of you. I just wasn't ready. I'm not ready yet, if that's alright?"

* * *

 _Ready for what? For him?_

 _Draco…. Draco…_ He repeated his name to himself a few times, it sounded foreign coming from her lips.

Draco nodded.

"Let's make it talk," He suggested. He knew his voice rang of disappointment.

Hermione pressed play on the tape recorder. The room filled with the booming voice of Rabastan Lestrange: alive, well, and planning for attack.

* * *

A/N 2: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! Please review (:

Also, a shout out to Allie (hopefully that's your name!) for being fantastic and reviewing so frequently. THANK YOU!


End file.
